That door is glowing hot
A burning puzzle to our eyes
Most refuse even to see it
Prideful apathy its chief guise
Although we have one caution
Training and instinct tell us plain
Touch a hot and glowing thing
And you'll be gifted pain
"You fool! Don't open it!
You'll kill us all
Or worse"
The age-old chorus line
But we are nothing if not curious
And stubborn as can be
So eager we reach out
Come within a toenail's width
Then we shrink away
It's hard to bear admitting
In part we fear the answer
Old devil fear does battle
With an angel of desire
Desire to better our bumbling selves
And hope to enact a plan
To save our sweltering home
If indeed we still can
Fear, of course, but of what?
The oldest tool in the bucket
See the grip of power relax
Then tight the unknown keeps it
But for those who choose to see
The pull of the glow doesn't end
So chastened but still not burned
We mount the stairs again
Just open the damn thing?
Just open the damn thing
Just open teh damn thrice-cursed thing already GAWD!!1!
Or wait
And wait
And wait
Still waiting
"Who knows"
We hear
"The awful gorgeous glow might stop
The door might open on its own"
Sure
And the horse might learn to sing