By Emma Cianchi
Iwalk along my corridor Silently. The noisy hubbub echoes under closed doors. Yet my corridor is silent.
I trudge aimlessly, Past endless doors – some open, Yet many locked fast-tight. I do not try to venture through the doors, for This is my corridor, the way I must go.
Abruptly it stops. I am left Faced with two doors, openly Inviting me in. One left. One right. Which way to go? I take the Right door, hearing the slam as it Seals itself behind me, then silence. Blocking off That past existence. I cannot go Back, only forwards.
From time to time other corridors Entwine with mine. They join. We walk along Together in a swirling cloud of emotions, our Bliss and comfort speaking for us. But they don’t stay long. They whisk off Without saying goodbye; taking their path, Following their corridor to their destiny. Leaving me in destructive silence.
But you. You stayed with me. We shared our corridors, along with Our hopes and dreams. You stayed with Me, for as long as you could. Until You ascended. Up that grand staircase to the Corridor above. A corridor for all who deserve.
You had no choice about going. It was meant to be. And I am not sad that You have gone. For though I cannot touch you, I can still feel your presence. And though I cannot see you, I know that You are still looking down on me. And one day, sometime soon, I will join you up there. And We will never again be separated.