Poem: There is No Cellar, There is No Door

There is No Cellar, There is No Door

I am a strand, a speck
or a thread knotted
or a micro-filament
on the backside of
an invisible needlepoint…

And a little boy with a hole in his skull whispers,
“You make it too complicated,
dad,
and,
it is complicated,
more so than you will ever know.”

“Stop calling it time,
it is so much more,
stop calling it space,
there is no cellar, there is no door;
and music, well,
only a simple clue
to an impossible riddle
that will always get away from you.”.

“And those angelic voices
haunting you in your sleep,
those are real; the stars are deep bells
and the slight strings humming
across the moon,
you ought to listen to them."

“I will unravel this thread
only one more time,
and you will not know when, so
don’t wait. Live. Live daddy,
and maybe one day you will
see a little more,
but don’t forget, there is no cellar,
there is no door.”

end/Michael/9/10/2008