A hidden door,
Within ones mind,
Is open to be lost,
Within oneself we do find,
A place in which has no bind.

Falling through a memory,
To a place which time forgot,
Is an innocence and beauty,
Of which we were never not.

Searching for what is endless,
In the endless search for self,
Is a space, a gap, a void, a crack,
In which there's no turning back.

Falling through the thoughts of life,
Like a never-ending book,
The beliefs of who we think we are,
But its never how it looks.

Always reading before and after,
Never the page we're on,
Skipping to a future chapter,
Lost to what has gone.

Blank page,
Pen moving,
Not knowing,
Heart showing.