The mind 
Offers a key 
In the latch 
And a compelling reason
To open the door 
And walk 
Along the avenue of suffering.

And for so long 
You watched your hand reach 
For the key 
And fell through 
The door 
Like a bad dream recurring,
Travelling that road 
As if you had no will to change. 

And yet when you stand here now 
On the threshold 
With your hand upon the key 
Some other voice speaks 
Like a murmuring of love 
And says,
All is well my friend,
Trust in me 
Who offers no evidence 
But for the fullness of the moment. 
See the mechanism 
Of the key 
Turned in the lock
And the mind’s
Invitation to suffering.
See that desolate walk 
- That well-worn track -
As not the truth 
The mind suggests 
Is paramount 

But simply a choice 
Of which door 
You wish to open, 
Which road 
You wish to tread.