the fourth door

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

door of lost

I don't remember.

Tethers that Stretch Deep hang, slack now Without Connection to Memory

The door is here. I'm dreaming.

I'm standing although I don't know how I know that I'm standing

I'm closed, so without knowing how. I open.

{{ The Door Is Here }}

The door stands in front of me. Silvery tendrils flow like seaweed from the core of the sun. The tendrils, translucent, beckoning heartbeats in a vacuum. Flickering against a pouring light – So white, that if I had flesh, I knew it would already have burned away.

As I go to scream, a tendril reaches my cheek and I remember my mother.

The smell of her long dark raven hair. The autumn eyes, the first eyes id ever seen in the world.

The warmth of being held The first time I knew I wasn't alone. held.

The forgotten memory, my first one, retches something so deep so personal, it hurts.

The light around the door, pulsates, in satisfaction. Rippling the loose shadowy threads

I don't know how much ive forgotten For a moment I ponder staying For a moment The pain of remembering vs The pain of forgetting struggles until at last I turn away teary eyed, I force myself to wake up

#poetry #doors