The Spirit's Home

Sibilant whispers whirled within my brain,

Vestiges of demons thought expunged

As if a door once shut had sprung again

And hordes of pressing thought-forms lunged

Into a space once cleansed of turbulence,

A foul Augean stables of the mind.

Yet looking back I see the vain pretence

To think that I in one brief life might find

In the endless repetition of the days

The spirit's home where live a higher kind,

And all my human difficulties raze.