The Third Door

Down blind alleys I have groped,
Not finding light as I had hoped.
Then round one corner by chance I moped,
And came upon a trail.

At once a voice as loud as thunder,
My piece of mind to further plunder,
And placed in me a worried wonder,
My sturdy knees gone frail.

The sight of me must have been a gas,
A whimpering, whining, quivering mass,
For my courage then gave me a pass,
As a hound does wag his tail.

"If your life you seek to profit,
Take my torch and never drop it.
Obey my words as you would thy prophet,
A choice I will give to you.

Before you lies a split in the path,
A way for light and one for wrath.
A challenge there to test your brass."
From darkness a torch he threw.

It weighted down my limbs so weary,
And he dissipated before my query.
My fleeting fears at once to bury,
The trail before me grew.

I followed down that great expanse,
Never straying nor to take a chance.
Seeking my target like a lance,
A target as yet unknown.

When at last there lay two doors,
A bracing hope in an endless course!
I was guided to one by an ancient force,
As by a gust a sail is blown.

"Gems and riches," its sign did promise,
"A life of abandon, rogue, and reckless.
A faulty conscience, though it is spotless,
The shortest of two trails."

At those words I laughed in desperation,
And with mounting pulse and perspiration,
Flung back the door and cursed all creation,
I charged in as a train on rails.

A raucous crowd I then did enter.
With intoxicating scents and gifts of pleasure
A life without want was ours to treasure.
The holiest of grails.

I danced and drank and took to eating,
My thoughts of the trail soon were fleeting,
Then fell, exhausted, into plush seating,
A gentleman with me sat.

As he strummed an infernal lyre,
With blood of Hades and eyes of fire,
All my pleasures soon to tire,
My belly growing fat.

"How have I incurred such punishment?
O' hapless gods of judgement!
The shortest trail of wrath abundance!"
But none answered my moans.

The lyre's notes grew faster and louder,
The merrymaking endless and prouder,
The air around me as thick as chowder,
The floor beneath us groaned.

At once there was an end to their sin,
The marble split and they all fell in.
That gentleman wore his endless grin,
As into that pit descended.

I fell for half an eternity,
I dropped the torch and could not see.
Until at last those doors stood in front of me,
That trial at least had ended.

A second chance to make it right,
I've tasted wrath and long for light.
Behind one door lies a carnal blight,
The second must be better.

"A slave to God," its sign did say.
"For the pious profit and the sinners pay."
My hopes lit up like the break of day,
And through the passage I entered.

I found myself among men with hoods,
Each doing what they were told they should,
All silent, for the censor is good.
I sat among the pews.

The pontiff appeared and in his hand,
Held by the collar a quivering man.
His legs were shattered and could not stand,
The pontiff began to speak:

"This brother spoke out against the Church!
And brought on us his wretched curse!"
I turned away so not to witness worse,
A blade impaled him deep.

I had had enough of this horrid dream.
I opened my mouth but I could not scream.
Blood flowed from him in an endless stream,
I rose and stepped to the door.

I stepped upon that dreadful road,
The pontiff behind me a croaking toad.
And when my weary, beaten head rose,
A third portal, not like before.

A box lay by it called "the Problem Solver."
Within the box lay a black revolver.
A way out for those who could not bother
Stepping through the door.

I paced that trail for I've had my hand in
The Devil's laughter and God's abandon.
If I'm to die, then I'll die standing.
The trigger I then pulled.

All the world soon went dark,
As the lead found its mark.
My reality faded, stark,
But I clearly was not dead.

My eyes I opened just to see,
Two doors stood in front of me.
One for wrath, one for light.
One a plague and one a blight.

So long as the third door lays untouched,
A living limbo with a bullet's crutch.
Going back to habits old,
Never love, neither gold.