A key to set me free

There’s a room, that’s been my haunt
For days, for months, for years, for a time too long
Mind you, I’ve built it brick by brick, with my sweat
One, to the world, I flaunt

On some fortunate days, in this little room of mine
I feel some warmth radiating off of the feeble sun shine
And on some other blessed days I hear the chatter
of beautiful birds divine

There’s a bed along the corner
with safety blankets that call me in
I jump in with glee, comforted,
like someone has just tucked me in

But as time passes on, and days loop on repeat
My warm blanket gathers too much heat
I find myself covered in cold sweat
Unable to enjoy my retreat

I abandon the bed, and scramble onto another nook
And, sprawl open some old tomes and books
And, I feel wistful reading stories
Of how the world outside the room looks

I read on through the pages, a world so unreal and real
A stream flowing and dancing without no bounds
A sun light so gleaming, so brilliant, a darkness it heals
A land, where even silence sings without any sounds

In my nice room, I pace up and down the hallway
I search my heart to feel what it must feel like outside
Would it be like the feeble sun, only more ?
Would it be like being with the birds, only forever, only always?

Now, I desperately look for a key out of my room
And, suddenly I find some lying around
Some are wrapped gifts from friends old and new
Some, that I inherited, some passed on through and through

I begin with a key that I have always admired
And, I let its beauty wash me over
As the lock on the door begins to slightly unravel
Clicks, turns, and then screeches to a stop, goes no further

Disappointed at how close I came to be
I bury myself with guilt, empty longing, and other kinds of debris
I suddenly feel overwhelmed by the number of keys I see
All worthy of setting me free

Some too sharp, some too rusty, some too soft to hold
The keys themselves, some kind of gold
I sit back in my room and wonder
Is opening the door even worth struggling for?

I sit, I stand, I pace, I swoon
I exhaust all things to do
except to find my way out of the room
And, with hope again, I stand humbled at the mighty door

At it, I cry, I sob, I scream,
And, then I lean in a hug
I sense it, I feel it, I run my fingers through
And, like a miracle, the door lock to me is revealed

And, I see it for its grooves, and its dents, I see its game
And I find, that when willing, all keys fit just the same