Written 11-25-05

Exit Portals
How does one find their way
To the mysterious Exit Portals?
I thought they were so well hidden
Because for one thing, they mean danger.

Why should one choose
To seek the very final Portals?
Is something too large? Too tall?
Too obtuse or small?

What enters the mind first,
Before one knows it is a portal they seek?
Have they finished all their work?
Wrapped it up, bows galore, a precise order?

Or is it because things are so askew,
That options can no longer be tried,
Or all other doors have closed,
So we see those left are the portals.

It seems a most viable option, does it not?
If you or I should need a break,
Who'd not allow it?
Portals for rest would be best.

Or what is all the fuss about?
Portals or not?
It's because what leads to the portals,
Are hallowed halls of sadness.

Each hall is built for a reason, for a person.
Each hall is built to last, so the sadness
Lingers, teaching others to stay
If only for a hushed, anxious minute longer.

My door is jealous. Of you who have already left.
It has not gotten to use its recently sharpened teeth,
A once a year occasion, done by some great Aunt
Or other. They're trying to get the message out.

The sharpened teeth tear away the flesh
That we have forfeited. What else is no
Longer ours once we pass through
The cold and lonely places of quiet air.

Disturbed by some state of mind or act,
The door men and women assigned to us
Will hurry into action; building or tearing down
Bits of our door so it will be ready exactly as we need it.

One man jumped through his half finished.
His choice was both accidental and full of purpose.
That door man is out of work, building his own door,
Through which he will pass, though no choice of his own.

So, where is this sadness again?
That makes it so terrible a thing
To pass through the door for you?
It's waiting here, you dial it simply.