The Door

Open Door

The door is a great wooden structure, bordered on all sides by a dark brown textured material found in old houses where craft was an art, not an economy.  I can see the natural black lines of the bark.  It is a huge door standing alone on the earth.  There are no walls.  There is nothing but the door.  An open door.

I am standing in the middle of it.  In back of me is brightness, a yellow-white encompassing glow.  In front of me is darkness, like a dense foggy cloud.  I turn around.  Now, the light is in front of me, the darkness behind.  As simple as that.  Turning around.  Choosing my direction.  I can see through neither the brightness nor the darkness.  Both represent an unknown.  I have no emotional feelings; no intuition about either the darkness or the light.

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