The Four Walls
Wednesday 16 February 2011
The four walls that hold me in;
Sometimes in darkness and sometimes in liberation.
The thick dark walls of despair and helplessness want to suck me into their emptiness;
The thin bright walls of joy keeps me safe in its transparence, like a bubble, free to take me wherever I wish to go, hither to the flowers or thither to those buzzing bees...
The dark walls make the ground sink away, taking me with it, into its deep, bottomless abyss;
The bright walls open roofs to freedom and give me magical wings to fly and coo like a nightingale in the garden yonder...
Oh my walls, my dear dear walls, tell me that you are not playing tricks on me!
Pity my blind eyes and tell me that you are not changing colors behind my back?
Are you not different, but the same?