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Saturday, January 29, 2011

Slipping Through Doorways

"Not knowing when
the dawn will come
I open every door."
- Emily Dickenson
----------
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Strange things blow in
through my window
on the wings
of the night wind
and I don't worry 
about my destiny.
- Carl Sandburg
----------
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Poetry is the opening
and closing of a door, 
leaving those who look
through to guess
about what is seen
during the moment.
- Carl Sandburg
----------
 
 
 
 
 

 
"I cannot sleep for dreaming; 
I cannot dream but I wake 
and walk about the house
as though I'd find you
coming through some door."
- Arthur Miller
----------

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"There was a door
to which I found no key:
There was the veil
through which I might not see."
- Omar Khayyam
----------
 
 
 
 
 
"Listen;
there's a hell of
a good universe
next door: 
let's go."
- e.e. cummings
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There's something enchanted about a door, something fantastic about a window. I see them everywhere, and want to slip through them to whatever lies beyond. I am very much a dreamer and the little girl inside me believes there are portals everywhere. I can be Alice, turning the key in a very small door, or laying her hand against a looking glass, and stealing into Wonderland. I suppose this means that I long to escape, and that might make me seem an unhappy sort.
In reality however, that is far from true.

 
I have a life full of happiness(es) as well as sorrows. I thrive on the intensity of my friendships and relationships; they give me reason to put pen to paper, or to craft something of beauty from glass, wire, ribbon or stones. I can't deny though, that I've always dreamed of cracks in my world, of holes in the shadows where I might sneak through into a place of glowing, winged fairies or french-speaking blackbirds, or worlds built of clockwork and steam.
 

I do long for escape. I've done it for decades -- chasing Alice down the rabbit hole, and into those unexplored spaces between the pages of my favorite books. There is in me, a healthy imagination; and tucked away in one of the pockets of my little girl self is the indisputable belief that I can fly.
 
So if you dream along with me of slipping through doorways, pick one and we'll turn the knob...


Come away with me and we'll fly...


 

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