Happiness Isn't Forever

I once was told that the winter, this winter, would be a shiny platform for me to stand on. After this prophecy I stood with hesitance, eyeing the shine that surely could make you blind. The platform was mine. Not something to gain in time, my own. And this was clearly shown with carved letters that engraved my name; I was quite sure I was playing a game. Doubt caused me to regret its existence, and with pure resistance I pushed myself to walk away. My guide shook her head to be displeased as I said, "Please, will you leave me be?" Solemnly she agreed and demons followed to scream false fates and make my heart hollow.
I sat in the center of a cold hard street. Night time prevailed and I did appear weak. I weeped at my rejection to an offered rebirth, and feeling hurt I laid my head on the pavement thinking there was no replacement for this life. This life, so bitter and cold, convinced this is the way until I am old. I looked up to bright stars within the sky, but so high I could not reach. My guide appeared and preached:
"What stupidity followed you home? I gave you something too good to refuse, and you walked away thinking I'd be amused. What, did you lose? Did you fail a test? No, and now all you feel is regret. I bet, that if you could do it again, you'd appear and befriend the one who guides - I tell no lies, there will be all ever cries to forlorn, if you stepped onto that shiny platform."
I thought that maybe this was a slap in the face, but maybe it was my day of grace. Maybe it was the trace of happiness she found when I saw that platform above the ground. She saw it in me, she did, but she believed it was set like ink upon grid. But I don't follow lines like others, I make them and smile to the sky's brothers.
"Trust me." She said, holding out her hand. "Above that platform you can stand." Even though I held strong will, I knew that maybe the empty hole this would fufill. I took her hand and we walked in silence of dead as I felt the tingle within my head. Again we stood before glory, she said to me, "It's your own story. To change or to finish is your choice, but I know on that stand you will rejoice."
"What is it?" I asked. "What really is it?"
"It's everything to witness whenever love visits."
"So it's love? Is it peace? Is it everything I want?"
"It's whatever you want. Whatever you want."
I stand in the shadows of glory itself, it's a choice I must make by myself. One step closer to The Flow or a forever nightmare? She reads my thoughts, she knows I am scared.
"I'll be there," She promised, securing my fate. "It's not too late, it's never too late."

The demons stare in awe, defying all laws, their jaws dropping, their screams stopping. I bask in the stand for a long while, the angels look down and smile - Not knowing my thoughts, or what the platform brought, because though I bask in glow I know not how long it will flow.
How long before demons turn into angels? How long before the devil the angels cradle? How long before my guide turns into a spy for the one who all of peace defies? How long before this platform resists my weight and I fall from my abyss? How long until my lovers turn into my hate. How long before angels scream my fate? How long before I befriend all evil and see never what glory could always bring forever? How long until the world turns into a flake that dusts into what the higher makes? How long before society bends where chaos grows and the world is to end?
I stand on this platform, but I want to know. Does this indefinitely shrink or does happiness grow? Feeling like this is the devil's dance, I chose to take a chance. And while a fine line exists between evil and good I wonder what I should have chose. Should I have rose above or followed in line? I thought I made my own lines. But clearly shadows shine and what's clear is black. The only thing I know is that I can't turn back.
I should've turned back.

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