Poetry & Praise: glorious



He wakes in the dark, uncertain what woke him, uncertain if he really is awake or just dreaming he is. Everything is so clear, he suspects he might be sleeping still. He stands with one hand on the knob, the other palm pressed to the plane of the door, gauging heat. There’s a fire raging somewhere, the question is, How close? For a moment he rests his forehead on the wood beside his hand, like a blessing, like a kiss, before he throws the door wide open and his whole life comes flooding in.