“Becoming Again a Threshold”
Whether illusion or truth before illusion, or truth behind, there is a door. There must be. A door inside usual. In you as you think of it, when you travel, mapping your mind. Go, become again a threshold. You can cross over. Though it is like nakedness in an empty room, to linger without choosing one, to linger because you have to choose. Waver inside that rapid begin.