Walking and searching down long empty halls,
expectations dissolve into heart-ache.
Anxious voices say from beyond thick walls,
"Turn and go back before it's too late."

Fists clenched, I demand explanations:
The silence is my deserved reply.
Still, with each newfound interpretation,
"Turn and go back; it's all just a lie."

Those gone before me could not have been wrong.
Answers will come if  I don't hesitate;
soon a door will swing wide, yet voices still groan,
"Turn and go back to the narrow and straight."

Up ahead there's a door, stately and broad;
I rush to it; open it; another hall.