“The purpose of poetry is to remind us
how difficult it is to remain just one person,
for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors,
and invisible guests come in and out at will.” ~ Czeslaw Milosz, ars poetica?carmik
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There are no keys in the doors, you have to go looking for them. They will not be in the usual places, beneath seat cushions or placed neatly by the bedside table. They cannot be found within the usual places, they bury themselves beneath your doubts, replace the truths you’ve been searching for with nothing more than rusted wisdom.
There are no keys in the doors, there is no need to lock them here. Everything comes in and comes out willing the resident to remain where they are. There is no exit, there is no entrance to this place. The purpose may be found within, but the absence of keys reminds us there is nothing hidden.
There are no keys in the doors, everything is open, everything is exposed.
There are no secrets behind closed doors, everything is open, everything is exposed.
There are no refuges beyond the doors, everything is open, everything is exposed.