There are Doorways

in the continuum of sleep,
between dreams that cannot end
and nightmares without beginnings,
there are doorways,
where shadowy lines
of alternate realities
wait, playbook in hand,
we wake, unaware, knowing,
already dawn licks our ears,
sealing our game,
the taste of dread
seeping slowly from our eyes,
even in the continuum of life,
between faith that has no reason,
and reason that bears no faith,
there are doorways,
dark, where the dice is rolled,
where we wait,
alternate fantasies in hand,
the inevitable dripping from the pediment,
unknowing, aware,
the light dancing in and out
as we pass, like shadows,
one, only one at a time.

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