Prelude

so I stepped into the old hall
smaller then most
but still a large room
I still had memories of the aging church
outside behind me
floating half heartedly round my head
the two buildings, somehow one

at the end of the hall
a wine red curtain shrouded the small stage
not three feet from the floor
the red linen set flame to my imagination
and the room burned with images
of children playing games, running, laughing
paying no heed to the history of the building
worshiping in the church of now

the drapes drew me forward
through the air thick with dust and memories
I’d never been here but I knew this place
it stirred something within me
or was it the thrill of exploration?
there was something hidden here
I could feel it
just as I could feel the fading life of the church buildings
pulsate slowly
like a weak heart determained never to give up beating

I turned towards the stair left of the stage
climbed them slowly
and walked to where I could see behind the curtain
it was like a scene from a book I read in my childhood
or one I’d imagined,
but forgotten

chairs stacked unevenly
and sprawled about
dust
darkness, split only by light
which peered through the cracks in the curtain
and crept in behind me
in the middle of the wall on the other side
sat an ancient piano
and next to it,
a door leading out the other side

I picked my way through the dusty chairs
my anticipation rising inside me
but when I reached the door
the handle was missing
so it would not open

I looked through the hole made by the missing handle
then through the keyhole
I knew I had to get inside
this hint of the other side
too tantalising to let go

I spotted one side of the handle
laying at an awkard angle
on the floor at my feet
and seised it thinking it would open the door
but it was missing the square rod
with which to put through the hole

then to my dismay
I discovered the other side of the handle
laying at the same angle
and knew it would be no help
the burning desire to open the door
now stronger then anything I’d known

then it caught my eye
a small rod
covered by much chairs as dust
I grasped it
fit it together with the handle
and slide it into the door

it fit
but was difficult to turn
but slowly it scraped from its slumber
and I heard a click
a small push and the door tentively swung open
the smallest,
quaintest room sat quietly
just off the stage
seemingly empty

“I’ve found the secret to life
I’ve found the secret to life
I’m ok
when everything is not ok”