The stone was rough and cold
Stretching endlessly east and west
In the middle was a door
When opened it only revealed more stone
Dripping wet, as if under a waterfall
Yet no water was in sight
I sat a ways from the door
Pondering its mystery into the evening
As the sun fell low I was startled
When three figures emerged
From the great door in the stone
They looked at me strangely
As if expecting a certain response
I stood up to confront them
But as I did they vanished
Disappearing before my eyes
Behind where they had stood
The door lay open
The wet stone gone from behind it
And in its place
A yawning darkness
A void I found irresistible