The door I almost opened still remembers my hand . Yet it did not seem familiar to me All I felt was abandoned. It kept reaching as if wanting to help I was terrified and remained still In hopes it would stop reaching, stop trying; eventually realize I was not the one it saught after. But it didn't. It remained like an old friend like a loving; patient mother Time changed the trust between The teaching and unwilling As it so often can It waited for me never searching for another. Time itself is clever And eventually, not just parts But all of me came to understand At the end of this journey I learned that that hand was mine, this entire time and now my life had found meaning.