The gong strikes. It’s midnight. The lady in the caged cubicle by the gates shouts out the next number on her list:
“Ticket number 2405”. It was time to meet the gatekeeper. Admission was individual; everyone in line had been scored. One thought dominated: “Have I lived up to the mark?” It’d been a long voyage to the gate. A car ride, two planes, and a long, 62 mile vertical elevator. I had to get to the other side. The gatekeeper pulled out a paper scroll. It was stained and ancient, with a paleness that made it see-through. I read it reverse: “2405 is not ready yet, he has more to do before he is admitted to our land”. My heart sank because I knew what was coming. “You must go back. Turn around and take the blue and green elevator. You have done a lot, but you have missed some specific elements required for your unique admission”. I smiled. Deep down I wasn’t surprised. I was kidding myself I was ready, when I’d yet to find the singular focus needed to get to the other side. Comments are closed.
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