Near the end of the hall, I treaded again through the stark cleanliness of the sanitized air,
Hearing breathless cries
from an empty room.
Hesitantly, I entered the white space.
An old woman, living beyond the natural lifespan and muttering to herself, perked up as she acknowledged an uncanny presence.
Her skin, containing a dash of red pigment, shrivelled with age,
so fragile that it could rupture with any given touch.
Her hair, a layer now so frail,
constituted of white strings coloured with a splash of steel
from the grey of granite.
Her eyes, wearied by the passing time,
still captured a willingness to live
Shown through the faint sparkle dangling on the pale blue surface.
I could sense her angst, unsure of her path to heaven or hell.
With the flow of words pouring from my mouth, I questioned:
"What do you fear,
When you wake up from a drunken slumber
Afraid of time and its slow drip
Like melting snow
Or the smoke of sandalwood drifting in the air
Trying to figure how to pause time as it trickles
Drop by drop.
Lady,
grip firmly your fear and stand in mastery, keeping the beauty of old age within you, not a terrifying frenzy.
Face yourself, and return to what you were in history: once an image of deity."
"Do not let guilt, unspeakable guilt, determine your direction to eternity."
And with that, the heaviness of her soul strolled out, as I listened to the echoes of her chosen destiny.
