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Old Door

Place of preserved past
among the lake, trees and birds
allows me to leave among the waves
what hitherto could not be shed.

The spring lock on your door
opens the way to new path
to a place I dared not tread
till now.

With a movement’s breath
my door inside unlatched
On its threshold
I keep my back to the dark
not shunning yesterdays
or running to tomorrows
it is enough to stand
and face today’s Light.