The Doorway

Unknown

The mysteries of the parallel have been purged,
Yet the albatross around my neck remains so.
This is not a depressive outburst; a cry for help,
My soul is still burdened but I’m not scattered.
Its the inquisitive fingertips that keep fumbling in the dark,
Bafflement but also logical wonderment.

I know one day I shall be free from such gravity,
However right now I am happy to just settle.
Settle, evaluate, progress.
This is the spirit that guides the black flow,
cutting through the untainted reeds with such force.

One day I will figure out the equation,
Balance the brackets.
But when all is solved what shall I write?
Buttercups and perfect white virgins!?

I want to know what the innocent thinks,
How she perceives.
Rods and cones are cryptic code, unique.
She does not think as the white dress suggests.

That is the talisman, the current that drives my nib!
Perhaps my imbalance is my Stockholm,
My deathbed to be chained in the mind’s mysteries,
The key, hanging, well within reach.