Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

Glass Door

A frozen bubble, that's all I can think to describe it.

As I walk around, I let my fingers glide over its smooth surface.

Looking through, I can see a warmth, but just enough that I know im also seeing through the structure.

Its tall, so that as I let my mind wander, my hands travel up and travel down, walking and playing towards its end.

But its a circle, so it has none, until my fingers flinch and withdraw

My blood illuminating a small indent, flowing, thinning into spirals and sanguine highlights

The door is before me, calmly pulsing with my blood outline.

“So” I say to the door “You're a hungry one”

It must have heard, or maybe it was ready to open. I don't know, but it did.

Within, the glass, was a rainbow sun. Rippling with spiking shards of fractured screaming geometry.

The tiny, sharp star, was aglow of anguish made tempered glass Erupting and falling into itself like prism

Like a focus and a distraction A god of intricate deadly planning

I had opened its door, scared I opened my eyes

The words hung in my ears as close as my thudding heartbeats

“I'm starving”

#poetry #doors

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I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

Choose yours

1. The Golden door
2. The Sea door
3. The Sky door
4. The Lost Things door
5. The Glass door

#PoetryCollection #doors

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

door of lost

I don't remember.

Tethers that Stretch Deep hang, slack now Without Connection to Memory

The door is here. I'm dreaming.

I'm standing although I don't know how I know that I'm standing

I'm closed, so without knowing how. I open.

{{ The Door Is Here }}

The door stands in front of me. Silvery tendrils flow like seaweed from the core of the sun. The tendrils, translucent, beckoning heartbeats in a vacuum. Flickering against a pouring light – So white, that if I had flesh, I knew it would already have burned away.

As I go to scream, a tendril reaches my cheek and I remember my mother.

The smell of her long dark raven hair. The autumn eyes, the first eyes id ever seen in the world.

The warmth of being held The first time I knew I wasn't alone. held.

The forgotten memory, my first one, reaches something so deep so personal, it hurts.

The light around the door, pulsates, in satisfaction. Rippling the loose shadowy threads

I don't know how much ive forgotten For a moment I ponder staying For a moment The pain of remembering vs The pain of forgetting struggles until at last I turn away teary eyed, I force myself to wake up

#poetry #doors

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

The sky door

An obsidian monolith is before me Darker even against the somber room it's housed edges shimmer a glassy surface shining with a glint a hungry wolf smiling

I walk closer, not prepared to see the dark of this doorway simply

fall away ~

I could see a world, from high above

a storm cloud that looked like prairie smoke dancing with light casting dispersions on a purple field far below

a step closer

Fields of thistle colored trees wavering hard hugging coral coastline water surging, pounding cliffs with spray as golden as an egg yolk

A tempest in resin

I hadn't noticed but wind is beating my face pushing me back yet

This world beckons

another step, as I pause

A long vermilion shape, emerges far below breaking free of the thunderhead wriggling disjointed movements a hypnotic site as a dragon pulses upwards towards me

The dream ends I hear it call me

whispers

“come back”

---

100/100 🌟

100DaysToOffload, visit and write more #100DaysToOffload #poetry #doors

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

The Sea Door

The air left me. Gazing at the brilliant abalone moulded door.

pink coral decorates the top of the frame.

thick seaweed wrap – fall dark emerald tendrils swaying listless, limp reacting to something in the water

I take a step closer to investigate as little fish hastily swim schools obscured by the abalone colorful sheen

I start to move closer

A small motion, in the door stops me.

A great horizontal slit opens slowly and scans me.

The handle, which was no longer a handle starts to reach out the briny tentacle reaching towards me.

Dark violet water falling silently, reaching towards

I woke up

---

99/100

100DaysToOffload, visit and write more #100DaysToOffload #poetry #doors

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

The Golden Door

Walking towards this door is like waking up on the first day of summer. I can feel the heat escaping, like sidewalks and grass clippings. Its morning as you touch the door frame. Intricate vine designs pour across the ligaments of its frame.

The gentle pulse, like the heartbeat of the wind, cool ~ dandelions puffs sailing into the afternoon heat.

Laughter. So sweet and innocent I almost instinctively grab the door handle and twist, but thats when I see the door handle.

Gnarled and dark, spent. Examining the opener I see faces. Faces that have been twisted and turned so many times the bodies are indistinguishable against each other.

A throne of faces wound into the intricate turner.

Macabre and beautiful, youth forever locked in a dance

---

98/100

100DaysToOffload, visit and write more #100DaysToOffload #poetry #doors