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The Waiting

It was truly arduous - waiting. Surely, waiting was the most painful of all endeavours. Patience had never been one of my virtues, for I confess - I possessed none. I was extremely impatient for this wait to be over. There was a kind of desperation in me - I wanted to return home, now.

I gazed up longingly at the black sky - it was illumined by the sparkle of a million stars and the dreamlike shine of the crescent moon. The sight ought to have inspired a sense of serenity - for everything appeared achingly beautiful. Yet ,appearance seemed unreal - and beauty had ceased to move me.

Nothing could move - or touch - me now. My heart was weary, my mind exhausted. My soul had darkened with the strange mood that embraced me. I wanted to go home, home, home.

Yet, I was at home. Or, was I ? Where was home - if not here ? Confusion and apprehension merged, creating a profound feeling of uncertainty. Something was about to happen - but what ?

"Life is waiting to die!"

I was startled. Where did that thought spring from? Not from me - no, no, I was not waiting to die! I was merely awaiting the arrival of the one who would escort me home.

A long, long time ago - in my imaginings - love became my companion. We traversed the landscape of life together. That, though, had been in my imagination. In reality, love and I had not had the good fortune to encounter one another. And so, my journey through life had been a solitary one, loneliness my sole companion.

I had, at least, the comfort of knowing that I would not be returning home unaccompanied.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I turned, afraid. Slowly - reluctantly - I made my way to it. I paused for a moment, gathering together my fragmented thoughts and emotions. Then I opened the door.

There he was, staring straight into my eyes. Was there, perhaps, a welcoming smile upon his shadowy countenance?

He touched me, and I trembled. My mind raced and my heart turned ice-cold, its beating ceased. The waiting was almost over. I experienced relief, the lifting of a heavy burden.

He beckoned to me to follow him - and I did. I realised that once I had crossed the threshold there would be no turning back - no returning. I stepped across it confidently. My life was now in his hands, I was going back to where I had come from.

This was the final home-coming. For, my guest was Death, and I had died..

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