Unbind

You stand at the threshold,
feet tangled in roots of doubt,
hands full of what-ifs,
as if they were stones to carry—
as if you were meant to bear their weight.
The road waits, unmoving,
not a whisper of judgment,
not a sigh of impatience—
just an open stretch of light
that has always been yours.
What if the door is not locked?
What if the sky is not falling?
What if the only thing between you
and forward
is the story you keep telling yourself?
Loosen your grip.
Let the stones fall.
Step through.

Anonymous.