ONCE MORE YOU OPEN THE DOOR

a writing by James Stephen Thompson

Once More You Open The Door

Matthew 7 v 7-11 Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good gifts to those that ask him!

I am certainly beginning to notice now with a long period of time spent upon this particular poetry website, a lot of new faces and names appearing. My aim, from the day I opened my page, was to improve my standard of English and get along, much more easily through communication. At work for example, at the start of each day, there is more and more mail to collect from the post room to carry through the straight and long corridors and into the office to progress with. Well, any monkey can open the mail, my job these days is to deal with the opened letters and update the computer monitor with further information.

From the theme tune and song from the film, “Titanic,” come the words;-

Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

There is some love that will not go away

You're here, there's nothing I fear,
And I know that my heart will go on
We'll stay forever this way
You are safe in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

Over here in England at present, we are certainly receiving the summer weather, as hours and days pass by of further sunshine. More and more colourful growth and life of trees, shrubs and plants coming into bloom within the gardens of house after house within the light. The correct style of clothing needed for the true daylight of course, having so much to it, to help with living upon this earth and it’s styles of life, such as the oxygen from plants, the carbon dioxide from animals and the human need of various vitamins more than others. The darkness of the night hours, bringing with them a time of more relaxation, whilst the sun lights up other parts of the globe.

We all need a time of rest, especially through my experience, after a day at work and continuous input of further information onto the computer. I do begin to wonder on occasions, as the office staff all begin to experience the same problem of dropping off to sleep at their desk, for how many more generations shall the computer be in use?

Are we anywhere yet with what the computer has or will have to offer? It was not very long ago, only twentyfive years infact, that the computer to me was a new item, opening the door of communication unto all parts of the world. Everybody owning a computer was able, and still is, to communicate to any part of the globe, anywhere at anytime, within minutes or even seconds.

It was just a few months after my serious neuro-surgery in 1999, when the surgeon had opened the door and navigated his way, by aid of the computer monitor to the point of the scar within my brain, I treated myself to what was becoming the most popular item on sale, the computer. Once it had been kindly set up for me by my neighbour, I was soon at it. The very first occasion I switched it on, being welcomed by the words; “Are You Interested In Poetry!” Being me and having a curious mind, especially on the very first attempt of using the item, I looked into it, what could it be? Poetry, it was a particular website looking for more poets to join and come forward with more of their writing. Again, being my very first attempt with my computer, I soon found for myself, tucked away between two pages of a book, a poem written out on a piece of paper, the poem had been given to me by my grand-mother, when I was very young. The typing out of the wording onto the screen, well, being my first attempt, but I soon had it out on display in front of me.

Click here, was the next step from the wording upon the screen, which once achieved had my poem available upon the monitor across the globe. Available for anybody with a computer to read, near, far, wherever they are. Just twenty minutes previous, that piece of art was hidden away between two pages of a book. I had opened the door, certainly opened the door, for from that day on I was receiving, e-mails, letters and enquiries from various poetry publishes and websites, asking for poetry on various subjects. My poetry, I believe I can say has improved over the time, especially as I had began with no experience at all. English language being my last and least used subject before my operation.

It has been over the years since my successful neuro-operation, there has been success dealing with my difficulties of English language and literature. It was through my brain asking my language part to leave the occupied space of where the left temporal lobe was damaged, and transfer to where it could find an open door. These days, for myself, all seems to be set up well within the right hemisphere, as more and more in the way of language takes shape from art and has now moved on from poetry to blogs, but not leaving the poems behind. The blogs I come out with usually being, to me anyway, a religious word. Again through experience and more and more readings, all for a reason, things seem to be taking shape in the ways of the next door along the corridor opening.

It was this bank holiday weekend I was out shopping and visited my clothes shop after viewing various items from the shop window. The person to serve me, seeing me looking in, opened the door for me to step forward. I was shown a variety of what I had been looking at, various colours and various sizes. Certain colours through advice of the person serving me, more suitable than others. It was whilst being shown the clothing, a conversation was building up and the mention of a suit to be the next needed item on the list, within the close future. It was explained to me of various makes and styles of various materials mentioned, all before leaving the person I had become known to over time, with my style of clothing.

Walking on through the towns and cities in this summer daylight within all the colours of the spectrum, as plants and trees bloom into colour like Jacobs Coat, is, once more you open the door. I’m scraping past and I shall go on and on with my gifts, for that is only the tip of the iceberg. Who knows, from the story of Josephs coat, the gift from his father Jacob, the mail openers may one day find, yet another silver cup within their post bag.



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