Life, said the old poet
is an insistent knocking
on doors that won't open
into houses
that won't be there
by the time
they do.
So relax, stop knocking,
sit on the stoop
in front of the house
that won't be there.
Soon enough
the owner,
the houseless owner,
must exit,
looking for a new house,
a new way through,
and you'll find
he doesn't look any better than,
or different from,
you.
Percy Dovetonsils
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-insistent-knocking/
