Circles : Part Three : The hallway

Beams of light transfigure from afar,
It blinds our vision.

That temporary blind spot appears when we glare upon the sun.

I turn around and look for her,
But I find only darkness,
The blind spot consumed the one I longed for.

But that’s not my real problem,
I’m in a hallway,
A 50/50 choice.

To one side of me darkness,
A tornado,
Whipping within the depths of the hall,
Beckoning me to follow the pure terror I feel.

However to the other side light,
A warm breeze blows,
Songs of joy and tribal drums beat.

Alas
my mind plays tricks,
as silver doorknobs echo the footsteps of the one I lost.

I glance toward the light,
An angel awaits at the entrance,
Crying over a coffin,
She smiles at me and walks outside,
Looks skyward and turns petrified.

But down the hallway I hear a voice,
Whispering me to follow,
Concealing their identity.

Laughter pursues as I take my first steps to reveal uncertainty.

I stop suddenly and listen,
But the echo of irony follows.

Slowly,
And Surely,
from the darkened way a door knob clicks open.
The sound traveled,
Like a sonic boom,
An invisible wall.
And I was on my back before I knew It hit.

Voices,
Shouting in all directions,
Piercing my ears with venomous screams,
My conscious mind is torn with the thoughts of a hundred beings.

The simple choice of direction ceases to exist, for a once shimmering light at the entrance way was replaced by the glow of a thousand silver door knobs each guarding a new land.

It some takes time,
But my eyes adjust,
And I contemplate options.

A swirl of voices tells me to go right,
I try to block them out,
But they start to sing.

Beautiful melodies,
Cleanse my mind,
Persuade my body,

I stand up,
Look right and smile.

Ignoring the chanting rituals I begin to walk against the grain.

10 feet,
20 feet,
30 feet.

And then a voice.
It was faint,
But real,
Distant,
But bright,
Someone said my name,

followed by a soft click.

Light,
Brighter then anything I’ve seen before,
Searing my eyes to darkened lava,
I continue forward.

Four counts,
A siren blares,
Rhythmically,
Holding the highest pitch at the midway point.

A stiff wind blows,
Impeding my progress,

But then it came,
The sonic boom,
Propelling my body to certain doom.

To Part 2 or To Part 4