An old man walked up
to a great oaken door
and listened to a voice from inside.
It soon stopped, abrupt
as he strained to hear more
and wondered what the silence betides.

He thought he should knock
with a quiet tap of his cane
to ask for admission within,
but paused to take stock
and his ears were strained
as the sweat beaded on his skin.

Then the door was flung wide.
All he saw was a dark
that stretched far out to the deeps
and left him straining his eyes.
Not a sign of a spark
to guide him in taking the leap.

He must make his choice,
to turn back from the black
and return to paths better lit,
or heed the dim voice
that leads down a bleak track
but wear armor that of light is knit.

Take courage, dear friend
as you read these few lines
to take the dark stony road
while girding yourself as you descend
into the depths of the mines
of your fears and what they forebode.