Door

When you love people they light up.
When you give them the pencil and say, "write whatever you want", you can see something morph and expand. You can see something grow. Something inspirit.
It's not simple being as you are with one thousand monstrous eyes constructing deluded ideas from the little they see. 

Those eyes don't see you in all your fruitful aloneness.

They don't see what you do when you get the world to yourself for a quick but bountiful moment.

So many people in my life have loved me like crazy.

They have loved me out of loathing myself. 

Those noble many have forced me into the honest to God truth about my nature.

Took my blinders off, whatever. They loved on me no matter the state I was in and 

so very many of them continue to do so.

When I was younger than the young I am now, I knew about the gaps in my life.

I knew where love was supposed to be felt and I could so assuredly feel that gaping space.

Wide open like a horrible, bottomless door. 

Creaky and damp. Like some radical but dormant love was there but waiting.

Always watching the clock and waiting for love to visit me, too.

Obsessively thinking love was busy braiding everyone else's hair.

I never expected anyone to find that omitted door and choose to walk in.

Choose to light a match. Decide that what's beyond that door isn't so vile. 

The people who love me are gurus in my eyes.

My teachers.

They do what I, at times, can not.

Forever shedding successful light on untouched lagoons of long gone clarity.

Cutting back the overgrown grass of self doubt and watering the good I've got.

The door in me gleams out toward skies, people, places. 

That is the way it is now for me.

People have the capacity to love you into the genuine truth. 

The truth that you are good. That you are nothing more than a simple human.

People have taught me that my nature can be simple if I get out of the way.