I can never know if this path is an entry or an exit. So all I can do is prepare for both.

The slam rings heavy in my ears, rings heavy in my heart, with the weight of closure.

Cold knobs, warm wood, contradictions like myself.

I walk over their thresholds , the way you walk over me. I say hello and goodbye at the same time, part of me ahead and a part behind. Only some of these doors have locks, I never know which parts of me I will never see again. Or which parts I might visit later, when the timing is right. I just follow the tiny cracks of light, they peak through, illuminating possibility.

All I have to do is walk through.