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  • Each key to unlock a new
    Mystery, a door to open up a new way to see
    Through the fog and the confusion and the rust that bind me
    Each key a way through, to see my way free

    Which key is the right one, the right key for me?
    Is it the one that opens the door to true happiness?
    Or maybe the one that leads to greater awareness?
    Or Truth, might that be the key to the door to which I need to pass through?

    So many questions, so many choices, befuddling me
    Are they in particular order, these doors, these old keys?
    Is there a succession I must follow, a pattern to the doors to the path to be free?
    How does one know which key to begin their journey?

    They seem so old, these keys before me
    Could they possibly still work, after all these odd years?
    Is the path as worn and encrusted as these decrepit looking keys?
    Or is that just to throw off the shallow wayfarer?

    So, I pick up the first and it leads back to me
    The second, and the third, the same path to see
    The fourth key and fifth lead to the same destiny
    By seven I realize - it’s all within me

    (Photo of Keys is the photo prompt for this week’s Optional Assignment on the Cowbirder’s Poetry and Flash Fiction Group, provided by Glenda Lynne)
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