a silence of soul
solitariness builds a cabin
in the brain placing a padlock
on the windowless door
no one is allowed into this space of
rich contemplation
the smell of mahogany overtaking all
in the middle of the floor is a round braided carpet
where I stand absorbing the energy
of the black thick night
a fire burns in the hearth
sometimes crackling and sending sparks
but usually glowing a dull orange
there is no furniture here
just walls and the carpet and so
I open the lock and step out
inverting the world for life
No comments:
Post a Comment