They say that for every door that closes,
another opens. Not so.
A nice belief,
A sweet belief,
but still not true.

On that day when we enter through the first door,
all doors are open.
It is we who close them.
Sometimes one by one.
Sometimes many at a time.

Sometimes, yes, it is fate.
Sometimes, yes, it is others.
But still, they close.
One by one,
or many at a time.
They do not reopen.

When first as child we behold these doors,
we marvel at their variety.
Lovely doors,
exciting doors.
Some beckon,
some hold back teasingly.
Some offer danger,
others delight.

As we grow older
we notice doors that had not earlier caught our eye,
and become blind to others that once held us enthralled.
Some slam shut,
others slowly fade and dim.

But still, they close.

In early life we see doors of adventure,
doors of love,
doors of knowledge, wealth and fame.
We choose one,
we choose another.
The choices seem terribly important,
and often cause us great pain and anguish,
for fear we might choose the wrong door.

It matters not.
They are just doors.
They are just choices.
They lead us here,
they lead us there.
But always they lead us towards the one inexorable destination.
The final door.

And when we reach that door.
And we all reach that door.
It matters not how many,
or how few,
doors we transit along the way.
They were just doors.
They were just choices.
They passed the time.
They entertained us.
And they led us each,
one and all,
to this final door.
The door that always awaited.

And once past that final door,
with it firmly closed behind us,
there is only...