A Man With a Door

One Man

Door on City Street

is walking;

In search of its home.

His wife, children, and friends

He dreams of coming through that door.

His house was never built

The world through the door

Sees crossing: people, carts, trees

All animals and birds.

Rising above the earth

That door

As the golden gate of Moksha

longing to be;

Clouds, rainbows

Monsters, angels, and sages

to cross on its way

imagines.

But at the door

Waiting is a hell of a boss.

Now it is

With green air

swing

To the homeless man who pulls a cart

As a shade tree

longing to be

A man with a door

He walks down the city street.

A star walks with him.