The Calling

‘He looks so sad’ I think, and the door opens a crack, casting some stark shaft of light on me, thrown into abject clarity.

‘I’m so sorry,’ He seems to say
‘but it’s you.’ I want to argue or
plead, but to what end? What
doubt is there? Besides,

I’ve spent my whole life doing thus. I’m called and must go, I rise from my shade to follow into the World and leave him behind