Thresholds of time

There is no-one to see you hesitate
Before you close the door
Leave the house and walk away.
On the other side , your past;
And now too late to walk back in,
You knew you’d drawn a line  as it pulled to.

You latched your childhood down.

To get back in
Requires a tenant from before
Lay down a welcome mat;
But he is gone.
He is gone; you’ve closed the door
And it is done.

You cannot tinker with what’s been.

Comprehending time is not a stream
But a hair-line drawn
On a threshold of a moment
With all that was and all that is
On either side.
The keeper of that line is gone .

You have to close the door.
You do. And it is done.

Hesitate; because you know
The death you feel the most
Is not the keeper’s.
The life that you have lost and mourn ,
Your own. Feeding you with memories
And needing you to spin them into gold.

The line is drawn.

The door is closed.
The keeper dead ,
Your twin of childhood gone,
You have no-one to let you in.
You are alone.