The Door

THE DOOR

EUGENE KRISTOFFERSEN
January 12, 2007


Dedicated to the memories of:

Judith Stein Williams
M.A.T.-Gallaudet College
Teacher of the Deaf and Hearing
August 22, 1943 – May 6, 1972

And to

Joseph G. Poirier, Ph.D.
Clinical Psychologist
(ABPP) Board Certified in Clinical,
Forensic and Family Psychology

My Mother, My Son and My Daughter:
Thelma
Sean
Lois

My Aunt:
Vinnie Rae Rable

Frank Alexander Goodwin
October 29, 1948 – August 28, 2000

James Edward Haynes, Ph.D.
Philosophy Professor
Gallaudet University
April 4, 1943 – December 13, 2004

Arthur A. Roehrig, M.A.
Academic Support Services Counselor
Gallaudet University

Emilia Chukwuma
Business Administration Dept.
Gallaudet University

Colleagues, Alumni and Friends,
Especially my Colleagues and
Friends from the Class of 1976




A time of imagination had filled me with fascination
That buried me deep within and beyond seeking what it was for.
I had thought what was right and wrong and why here on earth I belong.
Deep into my mind, I had been searching until I could find more.
But still on with the searching, I had wondered how I could find more.
I’ve thought of this and furthermore.

So, I traveled into my mind for the matters I could not find
By starting from the bleak darkness leading to where I could explore.
I thought of it quite severely where unable to see clearly.
A variety of vague images seemed to me, quite a chore.
But then, there had to be a way than to have a difficult chore.
This, had I then thought of a door.

Much I was marveled by this thought, since a good suggestion was brought;
Creating a door like The Man Upstairs created earth before.
To think back into history, it must have been a mystery
How creation made form for some reason that was hard to ignore.
And then, I thought of this suggestion that I just could not ignore,
As of creating such a door.

To look at it with little fright, and to think about it at night,
It was likely a risk of what imagination might outpour.
From beyond a door that’s unknown, I did not wish to be alone
To take a risk through my inner mind that I was about to bore.
Then a question, what would I face through what I was about to bore,
As I bore through forming the door?

To think about this very deep the darkness within I may leap,
I kept on wondering, if deeper and further, where I would soar.
To ponder in this with exhaust, I could go too far and get lost.
Such a thought to keep thinking and not knowing the risk of uproar
Was something I had to think about whether to face that uproar.
‘Twould be a risk to form the door.

To glide into this kind of trance, it was like taking a big chance
To submerge to an inner space trying to achieve a good score.
This was a matter to so dare as to pierce through space and nowhere,
Or to penetrate the forgotten memory in mind of yore.
Yet, I could face an unbearable memory to grieve from yore,
If I should dare create a door.

It was like to enter the past so far back to where it would last.
To ponder this far to seek for an answer to earn such a lore
Was enough to be close to fear wondering where I would be near.
There could be something far back in past unknown of what I did store.
And this, I was in doubt to go on searching into what’s in store;
Such a doubt to search evermore.

Living here alive on this earth since beginning of time and birth,
I had lived through time thinking enough to make thoughts painful and sore.
To analyze is what I want but not to the extent of haunt.
Something in the middle of darkness that I was seeking for core,
Such as meaning of time, and how it was thought, is inside a core
For the searching of evermore.

Seemingly, life had been a gift from a dream that goes on to drift
With time flowing that carries a willing answer, which I adore.
In the middle of this vast sea, as I pictured, I could not see
Where and which direction to lead myself safely to be on shore.
The way I had imagined this life was to arrive there on shore,
Like struggling to keep evermore!

From this thought, how my head had whirled ‘til I awoke on a new world
With chills from facing this intense twilight was enough to abhor.
Being on this kind of planet was caused from how I did plan it,
And how I did continue to achieve, I’ve arrived at the fore.
Having gone through this imagination, I made it at the fore.
So, I must have entered the door.

If it was the door I went through or if this dream was to be true;
If the door, or this mask of dream, I wondered if something I tore.
To tear through something that could burst, I was hoping not for the worst,
But I discovered not a wall nor a ceiling nor a floor.
It was as though I discovered standing on something like a floor.
Something had to be furthermore.

I didn’t know where I was standing, but around me seemed expanding,
As though I was there all alone where my mind seemed to have been poor.
To have been there almost fainting, as though if to be acquainting
With something I didn’t understand, but the something I did implore.
And this stillness of nothingness, I definitely did implore,
What is forever evermore?

Human nature of a mistake still appears on earth for a sake
Of moving motion of soul away from here and there to detour.
A mistake to be a reason having encumbrance to season
Is the goal of the form and soul to accomplish and to restore.
If no hindrance to season nor to accomplish and to restore,
What is then a forevermore?

Life was is and is was to rhyme with is to come beyond a time.
Is that was is and was that is was and then is a will to pore;
To pore in whether to decide, to open a fact or to hide,
Forms to now is the past in the future and then is a therefore.
Whatever was done is done, and what can be done wills a therefore.
Therefore, forever evermore.

Anomalous thoughts that exist in form to lead a path of mist
Is where I calm my fear into a path of peace forevermore.
How I survive for existence leading me to bleak resistance,
Each question reverses to an answer avoiding to deplore.
Meaningful life to implore, or unmeaningful death to deplore;
This side, or that side, of the door.

Hence, I write that I am to track words to impress the words I lack.
The words I do are words to mean peace at the door but rhymes with “Nor.”
And these words I feel with anger cannot clearly rhyme with stranger.
The word stranger defines a meaning to mean death for two from four,
Or three from five, to leave two, like a fear from six to equal four.
This stranger involved with the door.

The door in this reality expressing triviality,
Which reflects fear from this stranger reflecting, “Matter of life or ….”
From outside the door of my name dwells the fear of this stranger’s game,
Which describes the stranger as The Raven with a quote, “Nevermore.”
Peaceful life I implore, but The Raven’s script still reads, “Nevermore.”
But, my script so reads, “Evermore.”

I AM that I AM made me go into motive of my ego
With Will through my feelings guiding me to create and write, The Door,
Which I implore for a prophet to The Author for a profit.
I, a deaf poet, Scribed by Writer’s Quill of Will, am made The Door;
Thus, I am not that I AM with an Infinite Key to The Door;
The Covenant of Evermore.




Epilogue – “A Reality of a Fantasy is A Fantasy of a Reality”
E.K.


Final Revision – January 12, 2007