Two poems for NL:

Out into the Mystery

Out into the mystery, which we fully embrace with open arms. What we are and always have been, we will become.

Love and Light to you, forever and always arisen again.

Free of the body

Free of his body

No more aches and pains

Unlike those who go to heaven

We dissolve in the light.

DEach of the old broken doors has its own special formula for opening. There is the broken door of the unhinged mind. There’s the door of the heart swinging slightly open and then getting stuck. There is the door of the window longing for what is beyond. There are the six sense doors, and the doors of the feet treading the earth. There are the insistent doors that keep slamming and reminding you of what happened, and the doors that open out onto a wide landscape where you are running and running, either for adventure or trying to get away. Then there are all the closed doors, the doors that used to be open, or the ones that have always been shut, the proud etched doors that have detail work that they really don’t do anymore, the plank doors that were thrown up in a commune and were perfectly fine, and matched the old couch exactly well. There are doors that never got finished. They sit half open, half shellacked, partly painted, reminding you of unfinished tasks and parts of your world that are unseen, unknown, or undone, places that need repair. Sometimes those parts or places are not important enough to get any attention. Those places are sad. Then there are also destroyed doors, doors turned into tables, doors that have the knob in the wrong place. Every time you enter you have to bend down. Doors that don’t match their people are also sad. And sometimes when you go through a door, there’s a new world on the other side, and sometimes you go through an invisible door and only discover it was there much much later.