On The Path Poem by Daniel Brick

Is this the door
meant for me to open,
this great wooden door
painted Prussian blue
with Renaissance golden
spheres shining from its
center? Or is it just
another finger pointing
to the Moon? Must I live
this life until I reach
another door, one painted
pale yellow, or not painted
at all, with no visionary
symbol for me to contemplate.
Just a simple thing, no handle
even, just a vertical panel
I push once, and its opens
to Glory! There be glory
in the end, won't there be
glory in the end? I have waited
so long, the others are far ahead
me, or far behind me. Is it my fate
to be so solitary? How much further
must I walk to realize in my deepest self:
THIS MUCH KNOWLEDGE YIELDS THIS MUCH GRACE?