Semi-Daily Scribbles

The way opened for a purpose. A promise attached to the doorjamb gave us time to test our threshold. Would the sill bear our burden? Would the first step be our last? The door was open. A blue-grey cloud bank welcomed us. A key was a silly thing to replace. No lock existed that would keep out the accursed doubt which caused the frame to crack. Our foundation was sturdy as vapor. We couldn't go back. Steps were erased so they could not be retraced. Through the archway of echoes we went. A lapse of reason our only guide.