The Door

Light, white-blinding, unable to move.
Where am I?
Try to remember.

The Door.
I came through The Door.
I remember now.

Revelations.
Flying, over the earth, outside my body,
Outside everything.

Looking down upon myself
at the whiteness of the sheet
covering me.

No need for wine or water.
No need for bread or meat.
I have entered through The Door.

Seeing through the glass darkly,
the way ahead unclear,
but my mind (my soul?) is moving on.

No need for the corporeal,
Set adrift, cast aside,
Abandoned.

On the other side of The Door.

Can you look again?

What do you see, Tiger Lily?

I see the moon.
I see the path shining in front of me, illuminated in the bright moonlight.

What else?

Nothing else.

What do you feel, Tiger Lily?

I feel the dampness of the night.
I feel the ground, wet beneath my feet.

What do you hear, Tiger Lily?

I hear waves breaking on a shore far away.
Do I hear you breathing?
Why can’t I see you?

What do you smell, Tiger Lily?

I smell the dampness of the earth.
Nothing else.
Where are you?

What do you taste, Tiger Lily

I taste nothing.
Just emptiness.

What do you remember, Tiger Lily?

I remember when we first met; on a moon-bright night like this.
I remember… everything.

And what do you want, Tiger Lily?

I want you back.

Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Daily Prompt 28.04.19