All doors are full of promise
for him. He holds their handles
like gifts he’s found by chance,
or hands to hold in his hand
before entering the paradise
of a room or a house or a street.
To him, the eyes of other people
are doors to a castle,
and raising his arms in pleasure
is opening the door of praise.
He sees a door
in the darkness of sorrow
and in the first page of a book.
If you see him,
he will just be opening
the plain door of the present.