The Door Poem by Patrick Czyz

How can I return home without its grace?
Is there any other way to cross the divide
While not passing through its sealed side?
There it stands: a postern to my place.

After all the seasons and times endured,
How remarkable it is to have my soul lured
Into its tall standing frame: from top to floor.
It opens as if revealing a closed metaphor.

On one side familiarity is nothing but my room.
For when closed, it closes in that which is same.
On the other, discoveries like mysteries loom.
For when opened, it opens new wonders to name.