“Seven Horizons, seven doors.
Swallowed secrets, silent floors.
Open one, the bloody night grows thin,
Open two, the blowing light creeps in.
Three and four, the clocks all bend,
Five and six, where sketchy shadows end.
At the seventh, silence stays…
Yet the path still hides its ways.
The final gate no waking eyes can see,
It holds no lock, no key to be.
Not of stone, nor iron bound—
Where is the eighth door found?
Blood, wine and an open wound.”
@mahour_arts DTIYS Challenge.