when the doors are open

and when the doors are open
there's a child at play
looking for new worlds,
and new words to toy around with and say;
pushing the envelope;
throwing away the stamp;
running from a single spotlight,
lighting the lamp.
and by the rivers rushing down to the sea
there's music in the breeze,
her voice filling me with wonder,
and i'm on my knees,
ready to grow into one of the tallest trees,
flying like the little sparrow
into the blood red orange sunset
thinking i had all the best answers,
and yet
when i opened my hand it was empty:
reflections of a distant coast;
a mighty mountain trembling;
a silent shimmering of a passing ghost.