Told...

'What am I doing here?' I found myself asking.

'You are questioning the unquestionable, fathoming the unthinkable and figuring out what you are all about! Yet you remain, hooked by your own self constraint, you lack belief and the fact is that you are scared to go it alone.'

'And who are you to observe my life in such a way, to make judgement calls like that?' I retorted in a harsh tone.

'I am everything you want to be and everything you dream of, I am the gateway to the unknown and the river between the banks of memories.'

I quivered slightly as the voice deepened and the tone grew grim, the figure turned to me.

'You are the reason your life is what it is, you create, you destroy. Be witness to yourself. You wish to run, you wish to hide away from it all, you want pity from others, their words and actions to comfort you. Yet we both know that their words cannot heal you.
What is done, is. What will be, is not.
Be your own strength, carve your own course. Stand tall, be strong and realise, this is your life.'

Again...

I stand guilty of sin without so much as having lifted a finger,
Accused and cursed upon for being nothing more than myself,

"Not good enough, not attentive enough, mean and nasty."

Always putting others first but yet constantly rejected,
Trying so hard even when my actions are unseen,

"Selfish, self absorbed and anti-altruistic."

I've fought too long, stood too hard, my every move is doubted,
Confusion lays across our paths and clarity is abandoned,
I offer retribution upon my own self being,
A trimming of the soul and the lust for life is fleeing,
I've offered up my very life in mortal flagellation,
But the decrying spirit I heralded loud seemed lacking with intention,

Always wishing the unity would prosper,
And finally the end of worry and doubt would stop from her,
Alas I think that time has come to settle hands
Down weapons and tools, raise the white flag and be done,
From within and without, the end of days faced alone!

A story to explain...

The great door slowly closes, the last of the good moments rush away, trailing with the last of it disappears the hope of rebirth.
I turn to see the pillars of this time crumble and buckle, the roofs shatter like a hammer striking a mirror, no more shall this place be. It folds as if imploding, the stresses and cracks widen like the mouth of some huge beast, all that was will be gone.

Cracking through the settling dust comes a light, the dawn of now possible new beginnings shines brighter than before, unmarred by the towers and steeples that filled the skyline. The smell of the unknown drifts on the wind across the arid plains of this former glorious place.
My eyes search listlessly over the hollow of what had been, the broken vestibules and towers lie heaped and ruined. No signs of life remain. I linger just a moment longer, the last bit of hope being chewed over, a certain emptiness descends and grips upon my shoulders, the chill of it creeping down my spine.

As I turn to leave, a shadow tricks across my vision, the faintest of movements, a ghost of the recently past. I wave a hand across my eyes as a single tear rolls down my face, a trick of the light or the sad end of that which was and will no longer be. With a heavy heart and a vigour-less step, I leave. It is the end and no matter what is said or done, life has played its bitterest hand.