The door ajar

In the eyes of doubtfulness

he prevails, it is his house.
I follow Orpheus’ path, without hesitation

into first beauty-full morning light.

The door ajar
leaving behind nobleness

of heart hero(in)es, childhood

dreams I never remembered laying out

a trail to find their burning hearts

over seven hills that one day grew
larger than mountains.

In the midst of a forest 
hides a tiny kingdom’s ginger house.

Nightbirds ate the window frames

while I was asleep behind curtains 
parting me from chiming sounds 
of a vow

that has not yet been spoken.