Perspective is the gate I'll seek
within that wall my ego built
with stones put there by lingering doubts
protection sought was mortar's grout

of all the things I miss the most
when walls of darkness push too close
the spark of faith comes to mind
that jewel of self that's most divine

some days are blocked by stormy clouds
pulled as a curtain against the light
no longer does the lighthouse shine
lost to the fog bedeviling sky

desire becomes the poor substitute
when craving expires after use
quenched in the moment of its death
unsatisfied when it’s born again

emotions churn in soul's mortise
crucible where dark things lurk
waiting for what's not been put
fire the alchemy felt within

once more I'm at the storied gate
locked by chains of grudging pain
a simple key would allow passage
a last hope, salvation's gain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171110.