The door is open

The door is open

But only the tiniest of cracks

Through which

The outside world

Can be glimpsed

As an honest smile

On the face of the sun

A soft green meadow

As mellow as a Sunday

In summer

Or the grimace

Of a sad clown

Squirting crocodile tears

As the greasepaint runs

And he becomes a monster

Of infinite disguise

They are equal possibilities

Both exist

One alongside the other

Until the moment

Of difference

When a door is closed

Or flung wide

A step in

A step out

A change in circumstance

The madness of hesitation

Nothing is written

Unless it is hidden

Within the small print

Nothing is decided

Until time is come

And is then gone

Make a mark

Before the ink runs dry

Take a breath

Stand

Beneath the vast blue sky

Wait as the world

Opens up before you

And then

With purposeful intent

Step through.