In The Attic of the Mind

Sorting through the attic of the mind

Inspecting chests of moulding memories

And thoughts once prized possessions now I find

Clog the room with cerebral vortices.

The pampered and presumptive ego-shell

Accumulated useless outer wear

That soon grew old and wanting quickly fell

Into disuse though still I could not bear

To clear out racks of thought in my control.

But now among the gathering dust of dreams

I open wide the window of my soul

And toss away a world of worthless schemes,

Ascending the stair of consciousness to greet

The object of my inner being's call

Who enters in on white and soundless feet

His living Presence in me to install.