Originally written on Tuesday, May 20, 2008 at 1:50pm
... And all the doors are closed as he lay there, wounded but not bleeding. Still it feels like the cuts run deep and the blood is leaving his body.... slowly dripping. But there are no visible wounds, there are no scars that leave marks and there is no evidence of devastation except for the look in his eyes. He feels paralyzed, helpless and full of despair, will he ever love again? Will he be able to open his heart to the world at large or shall the door be locked for all. He stares blankly at the wall, the speed of mind defeats the speed of light, the visions that flash, all the hours that have been spent. The hours that waited, the road that was traveled and the picture that was never seen. The sweet pain he tasted and the door that showed he was not needed. The walk from her heart to his home. He silently laments, not a visible trace of devastation. Even his eyes .... they stop speaking even to those listening. There is a culmination of the sorrow but there are no tears to show...buried in a casket so the world does not know. He walks the streets for hours on end, to the lonely home that is his friend. For the song that saves him each day.... he sings to find his way back home and he yearns for her once more..... but all the doors are closed.