Desire to see that which is hidden by peeling door with unturned lock exists. Will the other side present an entity also worn or will surprise exist in the form of a well-kept world? I am the door, waiting to be unlocked. Likely, on the other side, emptiness may draw in attention like a swallet. Possibly, peaceful loveliness may appear as a field of cinquefoils. There exists no promise of relation between jacket and content and there will be owelty neither received nor given for accepting sight now seen. Hope for acceptance turns agonistic as quickly as the key was turned; fault can always be found, even in the most welcoming place. Should the door be left open, lockless, so that the other side shows itself as sincere instead of uncertain? Then, visitors will stop by with intent on staying and not, instead, turn the key, turn the knob, turn the head, and turn away.

Categories: Melange

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