I open the door a crack and see you on the other side.
I am waiting for you, he says, to step through.
The choice is mine to walk into lightness of being, or weighed down with relics of the past.
There is a comfort in what was, familiarity in pain.
You open the door farther letting more light slip through, bathing me in purity, drenching me in airiness.
How can I not accept your invitation and step through to you.