Finding a door for…

There’s a window, opposite my door

out of which I stare, hoping for more,


daily gazing beyond earth’s mound

where all my dreams must be found,


for they are large and out of reach

well beyond what one can teach,


imagined in years of self discipline

where lack of pride was my only sin,


freer, brighter, taller, but slower

are the many ways of hope’s sower


forgetting birth, race and room

this not a home but more a tomb


quiet prayers are said from knee

door behind, this window see,


morning, noon and nightfall say

all will come true, maybe, one day


if I ever rise from my devotion

and find the door for this emotion.