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What are you waiting for?
Day after day and night after night I sit here. Why am I consumed with this all encompassing sense of empty sadness? At night I can hear all the nocturnal sounds... crickets making their endless chirping – coyotes calling to each other – the horses making their habitual demands. I am surrounded by life but none which can touch me.
So, I sit and I wait. Eventually I allow my imagination to roam across the wall of my prison. I start at the far upper left corner of the wall and make a tracing pattern across to the opposite end. Then back again to the other side…. back and forth until the pattern is completed on each wall. The scrutiny of my eyes seek out each and every flaw to be uncovered.
Why do I look for flaws? I know there are flaws. I've seen them a million times over. Yet, here I sit waiting and watching and listening.
There is a door – an escape. I have traced the pattern of the door as often as I have traced the walls. I stare at this alien thing in my domain as though I expect someone to walk through the door. Perhaps a valiant rescue attempt. But no one ever appears.
There is an alternative action. All I need do is stand up and place my hand on the door knob. Open the door and walk to freedom. I look at the door and study the structure.
I ponder the thought of an existence on the other side of this phenomenal object that distracts my solitude. There are no obvious answers. Only fear of the unknown. Walls of solitude offer sanctuary. No harm is allowed within these confines.
At last my attention diverts from the door of freedom. A single teardrop makes a sudden appearance and falls on my hand as if to say don't do it. Don't touch that door of damnation. Once again I allow my imagination to roam across the wall of my prison.
I start at the far upper left corner of the wall and make a tracing pattern across to the opposite end. Then back again to the other side…. back and forth until the pattern is completed on each wall................
