At the end of my suffering there was a door
At the end of my suffering, there was a door.
The door had no markings, no indication of what lay beyond it. It called to me.
I could only assume that because I had suffered for so long that it had to be something good.
That was what I hoped for anyway.
I really did not care if what was behind the door was something terrible, for that no longer bothered me. The suffering had had its hold on me too long.
I was not going to be under its grip anymore.
As I walked up to the door, I became anxious. As I looked behind me at the suffering, I did not look at it with scorn.
For had I not suffered, I would never have been able to open the door.
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Written at Unitown on January 21, 2002
The door had no markings, no indication of what lay beyond it. It called to me.
I could only assume that because I had suffered for so long that it had to be something good.
That was what I hoped for anyway.
I really did not care if what was behind the door was something terrible, for that no longer bothered me. The suffering had had its hold on me too long.
I was not going to be under its grip anymore.
As I walked up to the door, I became anxious. As I looked behind me at the suffering, I did not look at it with scorn.
For had I not suffered, I would never have been able to open the door.
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Written at Unitown on January 21, 2002