Kitchen, 20 nov 2016

While cleaning my house one day
I put extra effort to the doors;
seems I had neglected them once again.
Not only did I find dust on them
but on the door to the kitchen
where I cook my meals
there were a greasy layer quite hard to discover.

Being very sticky, icky,
built up of greasy droplets diffused from cooked meals, long forgotten,
into the ether and condensed on this door,
I had to rinse the cloth again and again in a seemingly endless process.
I vowed to clean the door regularly and often.

Strange as it may seem,
all food then started to taste so much better and,
after some time, good friends emerged out of the shadows.
We ate many intimate meals together.
We wept together.
We felt gratitude together.
We decided to hike in the mountains.
Up on the top we could enjoy the great view.

When we came down the friends were nowhere to be found.
They called me later on longing for company.
We continued to share our meals but in the fashion of a Dutch treat.
In between our gettogethers I continued to cleanse
this door
the door of perception.

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