After The Work

Memories of days long past, 
isolated, fragmented, and frightened.
He was small and unheard as he walked, walked right out the back door-
Screen-door slamming behind, an exclamation mark!
Wordless rebuttal of a child.

Before him a forest fair, a world of milk and honey,
an unwitting wanderer, a trespasser still.
Walking in and out of peoples lives, baffled why he cannot join-
He roamed only to find his pain in others.
A Don Quixote, rescuer of all but himself.

The forest offered distraction and sanctuary,
a reprieve, where he was heard and respected.
A hero! A provider! A soldier! A Star! as a child is want to do-
Self-imposed servitude, "Surly they will listen."
Years of forgetting lead to adroit amnesia. 

The screen-door stood silent for many, many years,
it endures to be opened again, a whisper in quiet moments.
He shared all he was to taste again what was behind that door-
A traveler passing through lives of others, gleaning love to survive. 
He lived in the character creation screen, and not the game.

The screen-door finally sounded again
With consternation, he embraced both Gold and Shadow that grew in place- 
He turned to find all he sought to replace.
Love's rebuttal to a lifetime of pain.

That is how he won, that is why he wandered so

The screen-door finally sounded again, creaking and banging,
how can it be hanging there after such silence?
He turned around and saw the screen-door was always behind him-
Recollection replaced ego, he recalled once again:
Love means the back screen door is always unlocked.