The door remains open
and follows me wherever I go.
On the one side
I may be taking my last breath,
on the other I breathe again.
The horizon is a razor thin border
separating the two,
wisdom sought
but not always found,
forgiveness sparce but welcome,
hunger fed and forgotten
and thirst that cannot be quenched.
All, conditions of life and death
within a few feet of one another
but still the door remains,
a silent sentinel in time.
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