The Door

The door. The door is the portal between the chaos and the emptiness, between the fires and the barren lands. It is in the wall, but not of it. It is strong, where the wall only gives the appearance of strength. The door is secure, built and barred with all the things that speak of steadfastness and invulnerability. It is stone, and iron, and thick wood, all layered and bound together so that no fire, lightning, ram, nor attack can break it.
The door cannot be budged from the outside. Things from the barren lands may pass through it's solidity, but never can they open it. Things from the fire, however, can never pass through the door at all. They have the potential to destroy the door, to shatter it beyond repair--and this they must do to go beyond it.
The difference between the door and the wall is simply the reason behind their existance. The wall is there to contain the fire; the door is there to release it. The wall is my fight against the trials of the life outside of me; the door is my fight against that which is in and of me. If the wall falls, then I had not the strength to fight the world any longer. If the door falls, then I had not the strength to fight myself any longer. It would be so much easier to open the door and let loose the fires...but I can't, or won't. I know not which and I know not why.
So for now, the door holds against their fury. For now, the fires are held at bay. For now, the erosion of the door is bearable. For now, I remain.