A Door Will Open

I am so low as snow, easily freckled to a point of being spread out in the howling hail, with no inner child to mold me

I travel a winding road driving a beaten up beetle, breaking down in the middle of nowhere, with no strength remaining to push

I walk long hallways, past endless locked doors, with no key to open

I pass through long dark tunnels, with no match at hand

I fly skies of endless blues, with no hope of landing on land

I swim vast bottomless seas, staying afloat with nothing to hold

This journey I continue with a flickering ray of hope to find an open door.