Liminal (This Doorway)

Across this doorway which I step
I leave the former me behind
The pain and wrong are gone away
As I step out of my bind

The floor is never smooth or soft
Upon on felt I stand
The hook and nail on the ground
Cut my feet and hands

The door of not heavy oak and iron
But of the lightest elm
To be opened at the slight touch
To access another realm

The way is dark, nor bright as day
But along the way I ponder
The records of people who
Stopped along this wander

Though this Doorway I shall cross
One hundred times a day
But always open is the door
And clear is the way

And in the end when time is near
To being completely gone
The amount of times the door was closed
Was always close to none