Somewhere, past the hills that sing when the sunlight hits them just right,
To the North of the trees that use their branches to paint the wind,
Making a left at where the moon and the sun fell in love,
Alongside the fields that smell sweet like honey and milk,
Is the land of the Keys.
The Keys that open the door when the others close
The Keys to that idea that must be unlocked
The Keys that open your future and reopen your past
For some, finding the keys is a dream come true
The Innovators, the Adventurous, the Curious
But to others who stumble upon this land, it’s like a curse
The Fearful, the Timid, the Fakes
But in what seems to be a perfect scenario, always has a fault
The keys do not reveal themselves; you must find yours on your own
And of course there is no Key to find your Keys
That would be simply ridiculous
Sometimes you won’t like what’s on the other side of the door
But the Keys don’t promise you will
You might try to avoid the Keys
But crossing their path is inevitable where you know you’re crossing them or not
The Keys might sometimes feel like the enemy,
But they really do care; they really are your friends
The Keys might be scary because you don’t want to see what they have to show
But it will be alright in the end
I hope that the Keys will be good to you, reader.