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Sunday, September 12, 2010

the circle room.

He unlocked the door for me, stood back and told me I had to turn the handle myself. My heartbeat took off at a run and my feet froze in place. I stared blankly for a moment and turned up with a desperate plea to meet the steady gaze of the key master. He smiled, kissed me and said… “You have nothing to worry about. Look. I’ll go first.” Damn. He made it look so fuckin’ easy. Went striding through that door as if it wasn’t there at all and the moment I realized He was waiting on the other side, all hesitation slipped quietly into the background. I reached out, firmly grasped the handle and walked slowly into… a room. A room so very far from normal. It was burning with a particular brightness my retinas had never been exposed to, and I had to shield my face with my hands. My eyes slowly adjusted enough to distinguish four walls, each one spectacularly different from the next… but with painstakingly complex patterns that melted into one another to create a beautiful circle. No discernable beginning or end… just a profound connection of detail. Awestruck and uncomfortable, I lurched across the uneven floor to steady myself in His arms. “It’s okay,” He whispered, “you’re safe now.” With His words and love to fuel me, I became comfortable within that room and surprisingly enough, that room became comfortable with me being there. The walls seemed to make more sense. I memorized those patterns, immersed myself completely within their very fibers. I helped to repair extensive damage when the rain or wind or mold or termites took over. The light that had once blinded me, was now one of my only conduits of true clarity. I began to see the same details appear on my own wall, and let myself believe I would get to be a part of it. A part of Him.
Then, one day without warning… someone changed the locks.

Now I am no longer invited in at all. I am deemed personally insignificant, and discarded to the next room over. Every now and again I hear someone scream my name, followed by an endless supply of indistinct murmurs. And so… I sit here in the corner alone, the dull ache of exile sinking deeper every moment. I hug my knees and cry out for someone to give me a new key. They aren’t listening. Everyday I’m left to wonder what is happening. Left to my own intangible devices of assumption and inference. Everyday, the details on my wall fade… and everyday, it gets more difficult to remember why I ever wanted to be in that room in the first place.

if you happen to be a billionaire...