misplaced keys end up
in the space between
dusty floorboards
under forgotten childhood beds
squeezed into far away nooks
in attics filled with
hundreds of burnt out lightbulbs
in houses with endless doors
and not one single doorknob

i find myself within them
when i drift off under the universe
i wake with aching legs for
i can't stop hunting, though
i fear i'll never find the
secret passageway i'm sure
lurks beneath a stairway or
perhaps beyond a fireplace

there is a certain key that i
seek and although i can't recall
it's shape, or color, or size,
once it is in the palm of my hand
i will know it because it will fit
within my fist, which just so happens
to be the size of my beating vessel

i'll take that old, rusting key
and ever so delicately
stick it in the depths of my chest
i'll hear the creaking and cracking
and feel the sensation of a
sleeping beast awakened
and i will rise knowing
that i no longer have to wander
this wild world alone