The Locked Door (Poetry)

There is a door in some high wall
locked firm against the light
moss creeps across that weathered wood
the other side is night

In dreams I knock three times and wait
but silence answers me
the door won’t open to a dark
sunk deep in mystery

I am shut out from that which broods
and sends its message chill
the senses have no earthly use
for emptiness can’t fill

where nothing lives beyond a door
much better sealed dream-tight
imagination turns away
unsettled by the sight