The cellar Door

And by the cellar door I stood

I kept my feet adjacent on top of the wood

I stepped back and wondered

Does God care if I go under?

Can I hide in the darkness?

If I jump will he know, if I scream will he hear?

If I sin would it count?

And for a while I pondered

To be free, is it true?

Could I be free doing,

That when I act there is an all-knowing

And all I think and do must be aligned with what he finds true?

Then I think, what lies beneath the cellar door?

Is it darkness or much, much more?

Is it in essence all that we fear?

Or is it fate, the factor that brings me here

Upon the cellar door lays dirt

As if Mother Nature tried to cover the hurt

On its handles is rust, as if it protects hell’s fire

When god pours down water

As I open this cellar door

I find a cat, no more

And as it looks at me I see mine own eyes

Looking up at me

Looking down at me

I walk by it as if I have known me all my life

Down beneath the cellar door I wonder

Time eludes me and I go back to the top

Before I may move to reach the handles of the door

The cellar door swung open by some force

I see the cat once more

And as it looks at me I see mine own eyes

Looking down at me

Looking up at me