The Door

There came a knocking At the door Which stirred me On the floor Circled up In foetal Comfortable In my position Upon the Cold hard floor Sitting I brought my knees up To rest my chin upon And wrapped My arms Round them Looking At the door Was it a dream? That I heard the knocking Thinking furiously About the wanderings Of a sleeping mind Against the familiar Cold hard floor I couldn’t recall Any knocking In the wonderings Upon the floor I started rocking Rocking In my position On the floor Staring Looking For more the knocking Upon the wooden door If it didn’t Have birth In the psyche Of my mind Then it must mean That the knocking Is life Of its own On the other side The door Just the thought Made fear grip me Sending chills Down my spine To spread out Like lighting fingers Across my world The cold Hard floor I gave thought To my reaction And wondered new Reaching out To settle That thumping heart That fear Had brushed against And stopped A rocking Upon my floor Looking Searching For meaning Upon the wooden door Knock Knock Knock Fear It rushed again Sending me a scurrying To the wall Away from that door Holding it To stop My world falling As best I could While I crouched Against floor and wall Wishing them both To box me in Protect me From the knocking At the door But my world It didn’t change It remained The same Except the thought That life Was knocking The other side The door It was oddly Exciting As it was terrifying The knocking At the door It sent me searching Again Do I have it in me? Those aspect’s That I will call upon To get me Off the floor To creep To the door Do I have the courage? To open it For a new me A new life On the other side The door