From Beneath the Door

From beneath the door
shines a crack of light upon the floor.
It's majestic mystery captivates me.
I stare at it until I see
something, I can't quite tell what.
The door is not quite shut
and it seems neither is the floor.
The black and white lines are more
than just the grains of wood.
Through the ground I could
(though not yet clearly)
another world see.
The shadows were blinds
pulled over the shines.
A whole world lay in the light
on the other side of my present sight.
Then again none of this was true,
but rather black islands were strewn
upon an ocean reflecting eternity;
a light washed blue infinity.
And still none of this was so,
(Or, if it was I do not know)
but rather it was layers of white clouds
stacked over earthen shrouds;
or a luminous plain broken
off into the dark depths of oblivion.
And again I looked and saw a hill,
I on its dark side lying still.
And with another look, a mound,
though this time not of the ground,
but rather of sticks stacked.
Then to the start I fell back
when my eyes went out of focus,
leaving me again in our world mysterious.
All this I saw upon the floor
illuminated by the light from beneath the door.