The white gate

The white gate

The gate gleamed, white as bone,

Teeth spaced evenly,

Sharp, pointed, defending

From life, its hurts, and losses…..

To close brings a peace

A solitude that numbs.....

Feeling nothing,

Being safe from what is outside.

With a price, steep indeed,

Demanding everything

For the gates protection…..

The cold feel nothing

Already dead or perhaps just dying

In the end it is the same

The gates close never to open again.

Left alone in eternal solitude

So fight for life,

For feeling,

The ability to feel both joy and pain;

Each has its place

For without one or the other

Only flatness remains…..

A listless nothingness,

A repetition of moments

Without color or depth…..

Let in the light

The warmth that it brings ,

The painful growth that follows,

The journey that it is,

That makes up our lives,

With it peaks and valleys

Till it ends

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;

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