The Door That Stood Forever

Life's bright flashes, clashes.
The still frame's over-sharpened, crisped, darkened edges,
carving thoughts, tragic, slowly passes.

Never left, yet always leaving.
Tidal forces in it's wake, tearing at my core like glacial drift,
shearing away layers of crust on the home-world.

Quiet trudgery along my path of toils.
Wandering endless, through fogs of inner echos,
of muffled, distant footsteps, within my vacant chamber.

They wash together into white noise, fading into the background static,
and for a moment, It's serene.

On down the way there's a door that stood forever;
It's grain, grisly, withered.

I hope that it meant something...