The knocking on the door is now answered by no one,
The hark of the footsteps heard by by no ear,
The rush of the air as the windows open does not touch any face
You can stay forever on that doorstep but none would appear.
The bells toll horrifyingly on the mountains, signalling the close of another day,
The storm looms dangerously near, and everything but your resolve begins to sway.
The wind howls louder and the first drops begin to fall,
but instead of saving yourself or running to the rains, you don’t move at all.
The door will open you say, you close your eyes and pray,
and it does….but…. this house, is not a home anymore, it’s just bricks and mortar.
You begin to look around, feel the walls that have known you so well,
Run your hands over each crevice and slowly they begin to tell.
“The stories you made here, the sounds of your laughter, the cries of pain you endured,
The love shared, the existence created, the completeness that existed, every little thing,
even your being is now a part of us.
That is why the house refused to let you in, you deserve to be here no more than the manifestation of these memories.
Let them remain within us and unless you choose to melt in us too… Leave now, before you are forced to.”
Dumbstruck, overwhelmed, you stared and hugged them back just once more. Heard them till they stopped speaking at all…. Turned away, leaving only dust in your wake… None but I saw you fall… Don’t worry, I am your memory, in me the home you saw is buried.
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