How Not to Deal With Closed Doors

I DASHED my head against a door,
And one of us was hurt the more.
Either the door, that is, or I.
I know that men and doors must die,
And none of us can live forever.
That is the worst of being clever.

I take all knowledge for my realm,
And grasp, if anything, the helm,
And sail my ship of phantom spars
Into a glowing mist of stars.
Crashing at last to parent earth,
I wonder what the trip was worth.

The truth is, I was never born.
I am a kind of unicorn,
Bred for the never-never land
Where no one tries to understand.
I cannot cope with solid matter,
Or else I should have grown much
fatter.

Around the corner, as I stare,
Lies the non-nascent everywhere.
I think about the days gone by,
The time to live, the time to die.
I dash my head against the door,
And one of us is hurt the more.