The World Enough

All life exists between two open doors

An elevator stuck between two floors

A mere handclap of lightning caught between

two nothings we can feel but never see.

The sun must rise and fall, the heavens turn

We work and play, we watch our candle burn

The winter thaws, the summer turns to rust

just as we know that soon we will be dust.

Yet what we think and feel while we’re alive

can overshoot our deaths. It can survive

long after we are rotting in the ground

and all we have to do is write it down.

Our love exists between two open doors.

I’ve written mine. I beg you to write yours.