I’ve gotten to a point where
I don’t need to walk through
every beckoning doorway
most doorways really
do not offer
anything new anyways
should I leave the comforts
of my room just to
dance in some fiery meadow
merely because it is new
and looks exciting?
Going from room to room
I’ll never know more than
newness
and while newness is its own intoxicant it has also a built-in
obsolescence
but staying put
and never venturing out
into the throng of sticky and sweaty humanity
I’ll never know who I am
I’ll never be able to see my reflection
in the faces of the weary and the hopeful
this desire
this longing
for connection
is proof of my humanity
and ultimately
I am a hostage
as we all are
trapped somewhere between
peering through doorways and yearning to enter
and moving quietly
in my room among my books and things
content in my solitude
as my mind
races on to the next thing
struggling to rest.