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Poetry: other side: doors into self: finitude and infinity: poem
A book excerpt from the spiritandflesh.com religion and spirituality online library.
the other side
You are what is behind the locked door. You can wait all you want, but you will always be there, waiting and wondering if whatever is behind the door is a similar somethingness, waiting behind a door to find out what is behind the door- waiting to find if they are the waiting. If that is the case, then the door can never be opened. For that which is waiting always must wait. Therefore you either know everything that you are, or nothing that you are. But if this is not the case, then what are you waiting for?
Perhaps you must bash your way through a strong, resilient door with naught but your hands and body. A task which almost destroys you, and which, upon success, you find that there lies on the other side, another, similar door.
And so, bloodied, broken, and weary, you eventually begin to attack this next door, wrecking yourself to have knowledge or be free. And when finally your mangled life wins this door, there stands a similar one behind it.
And so it goes that you pound and thrash your way through countless doors, until, seeing no end, you stop and struggle no more, eventually dying on the wrong side of what you do not know is the last door.
Yea, the door which you cannot see through; the door which you come upon and from which you turn away; the barrier towards which you do not set to sedulously chiseling through; that door is the only one where you are waiting on the other side; that door has killed the you who was to dig past it.
(excerpted from THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, by Jack Haas)
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