Beyond the reaping scythe, the quiet veil,
before the gavel’s calm eternal weight,
there stands a door of unembellished wood.
No ill-fit fissure bleeds sepulchral light,
nor hollow warning scars the rail - alone,
the honest door with handle worn awaits.
A silent siren beckons thoughts of those
with loved ones waiting past the stoic sill.
In lamentations, faith repays the debt,
yet still we seethe indignant Shylock's breath.
We knock, but no response, nor fleeting sense
contents the vain immortal hope pursued.
With cost too great to taste forbidden truth,
instead we steep unsettled hearts in Lethe
to tantalize in vain forevermore
'til woven whim delivers us the door.
About the Creator
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It Only Took One Minute.......
It only took a minute. I was sitting at the computer in my office when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and then laid it down my desk as I went to find the student who the call was for. Within seconds I was back at my desk, ready to resume typing, when I heard the student yelling obscenities at me for listening in to his call through the handset that was still lying on the desk. Sick and tired of the lies he was spewing, I was up running down the hall, ready to kill him. By the time I reached him, I had calmed enough not to hurt him, but as I turned back towards my room, I knew that I couldn’t go on like this any longer. The decision was clear. I had to leave.
By Gail Wylie4 days ago in Motivation
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