The stench of struggle smells nice to low standards,
But I lack those,
So I take it through the nose
While I wait for a lightbulb moment.
Because a block is a block is a block.
But what lies beneath the rock?

What do you do when the door is locked?
You get in another way.

But if you yell,
And you smash,
And you cry,
And you wail.
And you blame,
And you shame,
And you dread,
And you bail,
The other way doesn’t come.

When you stop,
And you listen,
And you breathe,
And you wait.
When you gather,
And you solve,
And you trust
In your fate,
That’s when the other way comes.

And sometimes through this stillness, through the wait,
The locked door clicks, unlocks and swings open,
And we realize we don’t want to walk through.
Because a door is a door is a door,
But what lies beyond the shore?