A House of Spirals – Poetic

In my house there are Spirals….

Spirals adorn the walls

and wrap themselves


around the place where I lay my head

 – a gyrating sea of shifting pastels.


Spirals cast in metal

          and carved into wood.

Imprinted upon unsuspecting candles

whose voices cast pools of lambent light.


representing the conundrum

that is Spiritual life.


There –

Are aching tendrils of sadness

Tied to flashes of heavenly joy.

Crystalline strands of passion

bound up with guilt and remorse.


Ocher, maroon and magenta

metal limbs

born of struggle and loss.


There –

embedded in the table

are the filaments of my short-lived madness.


Regrets meander on the cushions,

          sewn into the flora,

                   so that only I may see them

                           and understand their poignant bleedings.


Laughter cocooned within,

burst forth

festooning my curtains with multitudinous strings

                   that ripple – still – with heart felt gladness.


Between, betwixt and bothered.

          I gaze at their glorious pattern

and drink in the reality of their presence.


Yet, in the space that lies

between their cold, rigid arms

          I see the unseeable evidence of my life

                               and all Lives

           based more in fantasy,

than the harsh, harried steps

which make up so much of reality,

mythical, unfettered, musical and true.

In your House there are Spirals too…

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