The night hangs on to the morning
Like the tide’s fingers upon the shore.
The darkness pierced by the bird’s echoed song
Morning trumpeters greeting the dawn.
The sun awaits for the gates to open
For its splendor to spill across the sky
A new day is born, and it is mine.
How many doors will I cross today?
How many thresholds will I pass?
How many require a handle to be turned?
How many are open to all who pass?
How many end in a windowless room?
How many empty into yet more rooms?
How many guide me to remain inside?
How many lead me to doorless nature?
They are so unnoticed, we simply pass
Yet each a transition, we leave and arrive.
What doors today O God await?
A maze, labyrinth or evolving path?
What doors today will open to prayer’s key?
To know your voice, to hear your call
To “set my face” to know your flow
What doors today shall I pass through?
And will you bid me welcome on the other side?
