The demons live inside this house
where doom awaits at journey’s end
the past-life knocks on the door
with the hidden in shadow’s realm

what’s been done was once forgotten
the forsaken brought to the forward
though this is slow to been seen
the signposts etched by memory

now that the rug has been removed
proverbially stating what’s considered
as the future demands its due
from debris of scattered dreams

pain mixes with lessons learned
sorrow soil for future growth
from the seeds planted there
karma sprouts to fill the void

to transform or be reborn
this is the choice to absolve
lest the demons decide the course
bar the way, close the doors.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171206.