There is a room.
Nobody enters the room, for the door is boring.
The welcome sign has been gone for ages,
But it's for the better, because it was beat-up anyway.
The door creaks when you open it, but who would know?
There's a lock on it too, but I couldn't tell you why.
Inside the room there sits a statue.
It's covered with weeds and thorns and vegetation that has sprouted over time.

It waits for someone.
Not just anyone.
Someone who walks in the door, shoulders high.
Someone who throws away the weeds and thorns.
This someone will see what the statue holds,
the treasures of it's mind.

This person, this special, enlightened person,
They will receive the hardships,
and strife,
and failures,
and sorrow,
and loneliness.
Upon receiving all this, they may do what they please.
As it would be silly for a mere statue to tell them what to do.