If There is a Door

If there is a door
deep inside the inside
of the forest;

deep within the
uncharted
haze and piles of debris
and fallen leaves,

crackling under-foot
- and -
 in the cold night wind;

if there is a door
in there, I have felt
it all along.

I knew it was there
and kythed my way
beyond its frame
and stature -

telling others that, "the
woods make me calm",
or, "I find my-self
in among the trees".

It seems more that
I lose my-self to
its own self and am able
to find peace in
the confusion.

The trees of the
forest strip the
bark of work from my
limbs.  They take the
heavy sleep of
indolence from my
soul and pepper it
around - on the
forest floor for compost
and fill.

It can only be
from the other-side

of the doorway
of "possession by" or
the other-side of
the entrance into
"obsession with"
that we can stand on
our ego and
know its true worth.

Slipping into
the secret portal of
getting lost

we can be our
own true self enough
to see we have
been playing a role -
acting -

all along.

If there is a door
in the woods,

in a nebulae,
in a grain of sand,

it goes beyond
who we have
known ourselves

to be.