Deep in the forest is a place where light is filtered,
down through the canopy of branches and leaves.
Casting shadows upon the ferns and grasses
covering the decomposing matter that litters the ground.
Hidden within is a portal camouflaged by a thicket,
appearing thorny, uninviting, unmovable.
Sheltered by time and matter, the link.
Unattended, waiting for the key
to finally open the door.

The shelves held books covering many subjects,
leather bound, first editions, some gold embossed
on their spines. Dusty, musty scent of old libraries
hung in the air, particles sparkled in the narrow
beam of sunlight coming in from the stained glass window.
A desk with a pen sat waiting to be picked up,
white paper stacked neatly, quietly marking time
when the pen will finally touch the paper
bringing it to life.

A box sat in the back of the garage, ignored like a permanent fixture
buried under dirt and bits of this and that.
The door would open periodically casting
light towards the box. It was so plain,
unadorned, sturdy, a subtleness to the grain
revealed only with the attention of touch,
bringing the luster back alive again.
Located within the box rested the key,
there was no lock to be loosened here,
the key only needed to be uncovered
to open the portal.