have you ever seen the closed door and
wondered what you left behind?
seen the shadows shuffle and gingerly
brushed the doorknob--hoping to find it unlocked but
you can't pull people like books off of shelves,
once read, there is no revisitation, no speculation,
people are finite, with many chapters of their own but
often so very few in ours

but doors are not the end and neither are people,
some things that are tied are knotted with love
as clasps keep the thieves out--
if you haven't noticced, fences define the property
but never the individual,
the world is big and we are limited to
so very few things, being as small and of varying strengths--
however,

the horizon is not a line,
sometimes we see ourselves as the end
and perhaps we are with such a short reach
but that does not mean we will never see the rest
that does not mean that every door will be closed.