The Storm

Rain falls on this relationship like a hurricane has swept through. The door has shut and the lock was slipped into place. You now realize what you've done. You decide you want back in, yet you do not have a key. You left that on the counter when you walked out. Feeling cold standing outside without a jacket in the torrential rain, you beg to come back inside. Inside where it is warm and comfortable. Complacent, at ease with where you had been. Afraid and cold you start to cry. Tears do not work, they do not help anything at all. The wind becomes stronger, teasing your body with it's cold arms and laughing whistles. Pounding on the door you yell for me to listen, for anyone to listen. I sit by the fire, warm and silent. I hear what you are saying, I hear your pleas. It is not easy to sit by the wayside and let you have your fate. Let you make your decisions, but I must. I must honor the choice you have made. Time cannot be taken back. Sometimes we must pack up our bags and figure it out all on our own. I let you walk out the door, I let you leave. Sail your ship and face the winds of change. Eventually you will know you had your prerogative, you had your life path and chose which way it would go. Walk that road. Take the place that you went to follow. Embrace the moira in front of you. Take each discretion you have made and walk away. Walk away from the door you pound on out of fear. I must let you leave. I must let life continue it's course. The storm outside will not get you, but you must go.