What lies ahead

by Mark Mitchell

It's there; slightly ajar.
On the other side there might be a bright promise.
Perhaps the turn of a tractor's wheel through the corn;
The strong lights and metallic taste of industry; or,
More likely,
The quiet whirl of the air conditioned office and the steady, rhythmic tapping of keypad keys.
Your career just waiting for it's chance of glory.
But the door is there and it's cold.

It's there; slightly ajar.
On the other side there might be a warm glow.
Perhaps the joy of a friend's heartfelt laughter;
The secret pleasure of a lover's smile;
The selfless love of a baby's gurgle.
Your family life just waiting for a chance to grow.
But the door is there and it's hard.

It's there; slightly ajar.
But on the other side there might be nothing but failure.
A high flier's impetuous fall;
A broken family's meltdown;
Just the final darkness of a lonely death.
For it's cold over there and it's hard.

That world out there is indifferent.
And as for that door only darkness lies beyond.
Here in the light it's all easy,
And I'm tempted to believe I belong.

But there's this thing about doors.
It's that they will always be moving,
They don't feel pain, never stop nor sleep.
So while the threat of the new lies before me
There's just the promise of failure chasing behind.

It's there; slightly ajar.
On the other side there's just darkness;
But I'm hard and cold enough to go on.