The Door Poem by Hans Ostrom

He glimpsed the door
that opens in
on Nothing’s core;
it’s the same door
opening out
on Heaven’s shore.
And in that glance
he briefly lost
the sense that he
was able to
sense an “I” who
he’d thought he was.
Infinity,
infinite death,
are what he saw
from perch of pain—
almost insane
from morphine drip,
sickness’s grip.
He learned you can’t
erase the glimpse
of death. Once seen,
it changes you,
and sobers you,
ices you, for
you’ve seen what you
had only known
before. You’ve glimpsed
life’s corridor
connected to
a simple door.
You’ve felt the cold
beyond the door
that opens out
on Heaven’s shore
and opens in
on Nothing’s core.