Open Ears

If pigs never fly then we're stuck in the realm of closed doors hiding behind
Planks of oak afraid to bend the rules and time
Afraid to flex backward to alter our perspective
I'm not entertained by what's expected or the limits of black and white
Or by lists and harsh confines
By a locked, tightly-closed mind

Avoiding the middle gray gradient, most precious, least defined
Which leads to the moments which mark the highs and the foundation for mutual ties
The mind grows stiff with age and I'm fighting to keep mine soft in some places
To maintain the balance just right so I can stay afloat without wanting to die
If I hear another grown person explain why they're right
And push other perspectives aside
I might roll my eyes out of their sockets and while I hope they'll trade theirs with mine
I know most will mash them in their soles to keep control

But on the condition we'll share our bread, I'll always leave something under the mat at the door
Da da da da
I'll give you the key to my head and I'll gladly accept that of yours
If we both open doors to sort and explore the relics we felt the need to keep stored
But if you plan to unload and never pick up, or think you're just heavy lifting your stuff across the hall
Step back and unpack your shrink wrapped thoughts and philosophies
Behind those oak plank boundaries