The Door

And so you’re looking for a good-sized door
To breach the wall that keeps you out of life.
Yet, all the time, you couldn’t be more sure
That what you want’s an end to inner strife.

You see your garden as a prototype
For how your time on Earth could maybe be –
When all the fruit and veg are coming ripe,
And flowers bloom as far as you can see.

Yet well you know your summer days have passed:
It’s getting cold; the nights are drawing in;
The time’s approaching when you’ll breathe your last;
And there shall be no sign you’ve ever been.

Yet you’re no leaf that’s hanging on a bough;
The door to what you’re searching for is now.

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash