I like to keep myself

to myself

This principle, isn’t intended to hide skeletons in my closet

but it is part of my skeleton

part of who I am, that I don’t want other people to see.

We become like the people we admire

but the real mystery, is why we admire them.

I can write something down

from my soul

and they won’t know me—though, they think they do.

I admire the man who does what he wants

He makes up his mind

to do it.

This is why I admire prison

where the guards have a man, locked in a box.

They are paid, to work in prison

and only he, is free.

His captive state, is temporary

This is what I find seductive—

that a man, can decide, his fate.

If they follow him, into his imagination

they will get lost.

It’s a rugged land, with volcanoes

that only he

can negotiate

strewn with flint, and obsidian glass.

He plans

patiently, with his candle

in his castle, with a secret room, behind the bookcase

where his safecracking tools are kept

where he takes his partner,

to steal the truth

and deeper still, is another room.

How many men, die with a secret?

they are the origins of trees

of magic

That’s what this man is

Impossible

He doesn’t negotiate himself

with anyone

There is something there

in the darkness

that wasn’t there

before.

5 thoughts on “Secret Rooms

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