Language Barriers

There are men who, upon their own

Reflection, feel prisoner’s in a
Room akin to the philosopher’s
Famous dictum; prisoner’s in a room
Alone celled in a walled brain where a
Door, lockless, stands potentially free,
But only in learning the ways to open it.
There stands a door not locked, the concealed
Symbol of a freedom not realized.
And the realization hides like an
Unfound key in the notion that the door
Must be pulled towards the room that holds them.
The door is as locked as an undeveloped
Sense is locked to learning new words.
And the word with no use is what holds fast
And keeps prisoner what should potentially be.
But the word can be a risen key, a
Skeleton key that shines and gleams  in
A dazzle of hieroglyphic wonder,
An alphabetic afterglow that dances
Upon an undeveloped sense like the
Flames that sway aloft sweet sainted heads.
But when the key is placed inside the lock
And nothing has shone, no opened sense
On which to wonder, it must not occur
The door is as open as an undeveloped
Sense and a word is not yet learned a word: push.