I try to follow the inner workings of those exhibits
found in places where history is stored.  My eyes,
though, lose focus.  Shrieks of joy from children
delighting in balls bouncing and the turning of gears
while levers move up and down urge me on 
back to when I saw with purer vision.  I know that I too
once held my face to the glass placed between myself
and the larger mysteries of life that were duplicated
before me.  To some it has been given.  To others
it has not been given.  In which crowd do I find myself?
A long time ago someone handed me a set of keys.
I have yet to find the doors which each one opens.  
Perhaps I will wait until company arrives and together
we will unlock fate and hope.

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