The Open Door

That night, I passed the wooden door
Across my path of shuttered stores
Its place here marked by nothing near
The door it stands, no entry here

That night, I took no action still
The door it stood to tempt my will
I found no strength to visit here
The door it stands, my thoughts unclear

One night of no important name
I found the door, the strength, it came
To see what was inside that place
Between two stores, forgotten space

It stood of type, forgotten old
A building tall in weathered cold
A narrow space of type obtuse
Of no real need, no proper use

The door, my hand reached to unlock
The knob, of metal, common stock
Unlocked, it came to open still
The door, it creaked, my feet, they walked

I looked around of own accord
Till found a box of type well stored
At back of room, here empty too
Inside this place of type unused

Inside the box, no answer here
A piece of paper sat unclear
Rolled tight as if by purpose old
Unrolled in hands that trembled cold

The paper plain, it said so much
I traced the words, by finger touch
The words they rang, so silent still
"Who reads is doomed forever till"