The doorway in my mind is a metaphor

The doorway in my mind is a metaphor

The doorway in my mind is a metaphor
The long street that winds, and vanishes
Into the mist, a question still unanswered
From childhood—or maybe before, inherent to my nature

The staircase that leads into the unknown
To spaces as yet unshown, but more than that
Pathways in between, connections unattainable

Stone balconies above, leading from and to
Their sources accessible
Only to the acolytes of some unfathomable religion
As much architectural as tangible
Like, in a vast cathedral
But that, too, is metaphorical

The covered steps leading down
Into unbegotten recesses of my consciousness
Missing links, ladders and snaking passageways
As yet, unmapped, their purpose untapped
Fragile ceilings, in places collapsed

And all this to say
Perhaps there is a way, from here to wherever
But equally, maybe, its very inaccessibility
Was the point of the similarity
That ancient corridor, forever under lock and key
Never to be reached, at least, not by me.