Left foot forward, on an empty threshold,
The door is silent, the floor is cold.
The spirits quiet, insects crawl,
Yet they remain still, and don’t move at all.
Yet when I approached, with gentle care,
I tried to be calm, tried to be fair.
But akin to us, some were angry to see,
Someone to dare to tread their carpeted sea.
Shut out of some, welcomed by two,
I await to see which will work through.
I left a whispered offering,hoping to be heard,
I shall await, for the final word.