Doorways

August 9, 2017

It see's me and I know it's there,

it's the keeper of my dreams.

It's the wistful, hopeful whisper of my cumbersome machine.

I hope that it can't hear me when i'm crying in the silence of the night,

when pillows become doorways to the secret lands of our minds.

Where dinner plates are the leaders and teaspoons fight the crime.

Where the shadows cast light, and guide our souls home to the land of the divine.

Listen to the silence, it speaks wise words of lost lands.

It embraces freedom through emptiness that places courage in your hands.

Let go of fear as it will cripple you, it will hold you hostage and extinguish your hope.

Embrace the transformative powers of tomorrow that light the way to your escape. 

But don't run, it's not a race   

let time pass by at its own pace        .  

Wonder down the corridors of time and space.

Laugh until you cry,

cry until you laugh, 

be a disgrace.

We each know the pain that your silent chatter can bring           

but feel peace in knowing that it can also sing.                          

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Durweston, Dorset. hannahcharlotte.read@outlook.com.
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