The light on the threshold

A long strip of light under the door,

The sounds outside soften.

I untie my shoelaces, my fatigue unties the knots,

The walls of the house breathe slowly.

The date lights up as I put my finger on the calendar,

A little warmth that still lives today.

A small map in the steam of a tea cup,

Not a way back, but an address to stay.

A silent clock measures time in my heart,

I stop once, twice, the rush passes.

A nameless melody floats in the air,

I understand that even anxiety sometimes makes me sleepy.

Standing on the threshold, I slowly say to myself:

The sky inside is the real sky today.