This is my house

I will not dust and tidy it up

Nor shall I leave weary lamps lit for someones’ chance stopping in

The paint is cracked and worn, but time will do that; it is natural

I will not apologize if it does not fit in, does not function to your

standards or if the appearance is lacking “happiness”

It is filled with all sorts odd things that you will not approve of

Things that will surely offend, petrify, terrorize and most certainly chip

away at your sensible, civilized ego



But it is also filled with wonders from all the ages

Things that human beings have desired from their birth of consciousness

Stories that will inspire, swoon and swell a forgotten heart

Caverns of darkness and unexplored fathoms of time and space



You are always welcome here, my dear friend

But just remember one thing;

This is my house


Breaking the proof



In addition, it is black and white

No perspectives or transmutations

The problem must be answered

It can be only wrong or right

In addition, to our experience, we add confusion

When the moment is clear, open and wonderous

We become mathmaticians; desparately searching for a proof

In addition to the labels and judgements self-imposed

We are the sound of water and wind

and cannot be bound

For we are reflections of reality