It’s like I’m knocking with my bare hands against a wall of solid stone.
The road ahead gone, as I walk through narrow tunnels.
I can hear the echo of my footsteps, because it’s so empty, so empty.
Alone I am on this silent road through life.
I’ve had many opportunities to walk right or left,
hoping that on this way, my road will cross with another’s.
Hope is the only thing I have left.
So what should I do? Now that I’m stuck here in front of a dead end.
Is this where I die? Where I decide whether to leave a mark,
or only let the only sign of my living, be the remains of my rotten bones?
Is it now that I pick up a crumbled piece of this mountain,
and carve an art piece into the wall in front of me.
Hoping that the next person who stops here,
will see my silent body, but hear my dreams scream as he reads the letters;
“See I’ve carved a door, which I wished to be right here.
Take this door, and remember to turn right the next time you get to choose.
That would’ve been my choice. At least if you do get through these dark tunnels,
it will be because of me.
Then it would mean that I’m not forgotten, but remembered by one living.”
It’s these small things that means the most. When you neglect your own needs,
and do something for the sake of a stranger.
Because I could’ve turned around, and climbed the set of stairs down again.
Though I remembered that another would stop here as well,
and what if this person didn’t have strength to go all the way back?
My slumped body against the wall… will he carry my remains with him,
fulfill my dreams of leaving this darkness?
Or will he fulfill my dream, of at least giving a little light to someone else’s world.
“Have a safe trip.”