Where the Doors Lead

Stop for a minute and think about where a door might open to.

Two doors lead where the eyes can see
Past the fickle white walls
And the dead processed trees.
There are fields beyond here if you squint hard enough.
There are things in these pastures
So long and forgot.
Once past the fields, the walls will close in,
Constricting and cutting all that’s within,
But take a deep breath, and do things real slow,
And you’ll see it all come just as they’ve told.