My Door by Christopher Dean

The Eye by Christopher DeanI would open the door marked “Apocalypse” to be the first to see the horsemen.

To ride with them, or be cut down by Death but not to stand in their way. They are the finality of the story of Time.

A story without an ending is meaningless. It has less relevance than my words and is more transient then this life. This bleak world is subject to its own laws of renewal. There is beauty in conclusion.

Beauty is made in the world of those who continue. It is the eternal memory that gives meaning. Ending invokes a power that existence cannot. It is the power to move; even after one walks through the door.

Everything ends and changes at the sharp end of the Reaper’s scythe. Some will see his swing and his mark. For them his blade is irrelevant; but not his eyes. They see that it is never pointless to exist. We can be for one perfect moment in time. We can be a shockwave or only a twitch at the corner of her mouth. We are.

If I can make Time turn her head to me and smile, I shall know that I am. In her course she meets the Four and they in turn themselves. All that will change is where not if they meet. Then that smile passes from Face to Sword to Scythe to Bony and Blemished riders. The smile returns to her renewed face.

In Time.

The only thing not worth doing is waiting behind that door. To wait without even the hope of a smile. To wait until it is done and all that remain is door and dust.

We must know that we were and we must reach for the handle. Or we must stand and shake.

I want a smile.

Chris Dean

Christoper Dean is a Fine Arts student in the United Kingdom.

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