The doors of freedom has opened, once again. Yet my boarding ticket isn't accepted, because it can't be used today. The dates are wrong. I have two more days to wait.
I see a bigger throng, a larger crowd pushing through. The doos flung open, and all of them gushed out to the Other Side like water from a broken dam. The Other Side, a sanctuary us worn out soldiers have always dreamed of. I see familiar faces among the throng, those faces who braved the battle with me. Now they are joining in, and being part of the hype, and they are crossing over.
What is it in there, at the Other Side? Will there be wine, songs and meals fit for the Kings? Fun and parties around the clock? I want go be part of it. So, so, much.
The crowd has moved in. The doors are shut, once again. Voices of victory, of rejoice, of relief, are no longer within audible range. Once again, I find myself standing, on a quiet, cold, and isolated pavement. Staring, with much anticipation, at the countdown clock hung high on the solid, slam-shut doors.
"Your turn will come, real soon." He assured.
Yes, I know, for time is ticking.
I don't know if he knows, but what I hoped to hear isn't any reassurance that I'll pass through that door, because I've already got the entry ticket. What I hoped for, is his assurance, that once the doors open again, he'll be on the Other Side, waving at me.
