Or as visible as this green door.
You can see it and touch it and know exactly what’s on your side of it.
Why is it that the bigger lure is what’s on the other side?
The thing that we can’t see, can’t touch?
The thing that we can only imagine becomes the thing that teases us,
Keeps us up at night,
Dogs our steps, whispers to us, chases us down side streets; calls to us
With a siren song that won’t be quiet,
Urges us on; takes on a life of its own that overpowers us,
Sings to us,
Until there is nothing left.
And, we forget where it all started
until we come to the next door,
Where it starts …
all over again. [gplus count=”true” size=”Medium” ]