The Door

The door had been locked up since forever. No one knew what was behind it. The purpose of its existence was unknown. It was there, in the corner of his room. The door had a rusted, golden door knob; untouched for years. His curiosity led him to contemplate for hours and hours on just what was behind that door, if anything at all, that is.

That dull, dark day was probably the lowest point in his life. He felt uncomfortable on the inside. As if his mind and soul had been ploughing an endless rice field for thousands of years and were now exhausted beyond measure. He felt as if his body had been disconnected from the spirit. He felt like his body and mind were being shredded by an invisible force. He felt useless. As if his life didn’t have a purpose or reason for existence. All that there was, was a blunt hollowness.

He heard a voice from behind the door. It was abrupt and sudden, yes – but not at all shocking or surprising. It had a certain calmness about it. Like a harp playing amongst floating clouds. It called his name. He turned all his attention towards it. He heard each and every word the voice said – and he obeyed. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad anymore. It was as if the voice had an answer to all of his questions. He found meaning in all that was meaningless before. He became content with what he was. He began to see things in terms of the voice. It changed his life. He felt beautiful inside.

The voice had promised him that one day he shall find out what the door held within and that all the mystery abound shall be unleashed and that he shall be able to see what the voice was.

That very morning was the appointed day. The day when the door should be found unlocked, when he shall be able to see for himself, the force that drove him.

He approached the door, raised his hand and reached out. He abruptly stopped. He stood as still as the silence in death. He started to think. He asked himself, “What if there was nothing behind it? What if he had imagined it all?” He stopped to think. It really didn’t matter, actually. The voice had changed everything for him. For him, it was like the essence in a flame of fire which gave it heat. It gave his life principle and reason and an approach towards everything outward, very inwardly. It didn’t matter if it didn’t exist. He would have given the world and everything beyond, just to have heard the voice once. He was pure in purpose. He did not lust for anything material. He didn’t desire anything. He wanted the voice for itself. With all the hope and without a sign of fear – carrying the highest of aims with the lowest of expectations, he clutched the key tightly and turned it. The lock clicked. Click.

He threw the key out the window.
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- R.A.F.