Doors Yet to Open
Embracing the Unknown to Discover Ourselves
Behind every door, a story lies still,
Waiting for courage, waiting for will.
A creak in the hinge, a whisper of time,
Invites the soul to cross the line.
.
Keys in hand, yet hearts still hesitate,
Fearing what lingers beyond the gate.
But every shadow hides a spark,
A light unseen within the dark.
.
The past is not a place to fear,
It’s a mirror that brings us near—
To faces forgotten, to love unspoken,
To promises made but never broken.
.
Each door we open, each step we take,
Is a choice to heal, not just to break.
For the paths once closed, the words once sealed,
Hold truths the heart must slowly yield.
.
So turn the key and walk inside,
Embrace the echoes, no need to hide.
For every door is a chance to find,
The lost fragments of a restless mind.
.
Let the journey be what it must,
A bridge of light built on trust.
And as you stand where paths begin,
Find strength within to let life in
..
The poem Doors Yet to Open conveys the message that every unopened door holds stories, lessons, and truths waiting to be discovered. With the courage to step forward, we can confront the shadows of the past and find the light hidden within them. The poem inspires us not to fear what has passed but to view it as an opportunity to heal, learn, and understand ourselves. Each step toward a closed door is a journey toward acceptance and wisdom
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Faisal Zucker and writers in Poets and other communities.
Keys of the Forgotten
In the quiet corners where shadows lie, Where echoes linger and memories sigh, There rests a key, both golden and worn, A keeper of truths we thought forlorn. . Each turn unlocks a story untold, A fragment of love, a treasure of old. It whispers of laughter, of tears once shed, Of voices long silent, and paths once tread. . The past is a puzzle, with pieces we seek, A melody soft, a voice that speaks. Not to haunt, but to gently remind, That what’s forgotten is never confined. . The keys we find are more than steel, They open wounds, they help us heal. They guide us back to where we began, To places and faces that shaped who we am. . So when you stumble upon a door, And wonder what it was made for, Have courage to turn, to step inside, For the truths we hide are truths that guide. . In every key, a spark remains, A bridge to joy, a balm for pain. Hold it tight, let its story be known, For the lost are found when the key is shown.
By Faisal Zucker 12 months ago in Poets
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.