Sometimes, I still wander up to the attic.
Once devoid of purpose, I find that it now acts as a trove,
providing some temporary sanctuary from my gale.
I convince myself that the walls can sense my own fleeting presence.
They know I won't be back for a while.
They tolerate my evanescence as I begrudge them their captives.
Revisiting - never to retrieve, but to deposit just one more thing.
I am sure I elicit some suffocating fear
of being unearthed again (and again).
I am more than half-tempted to make a break for the door
as if I were the coward responsible for the deposition of every hunk
of life or death that now form the walkways in this room.
But then, this is not the maze - I know and I have known.
I am the only labyrinth here, yielding no trace of a thoroughfare.
I am left smacking into walls more menacing
than the one I will continue to stare through.
Corner after corner after corner,
each its very own long-dead end.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
Sometimes, I still wander up to the attic.
Once devoid of purpose, I find that it now acts as a trove,
providing some temporary sanctuary from my gale.
I convince myself that the walls can sense my own fleeting presence.
They know I won't be back for a while.
They tolerate my evanescence as I begrudge them their captives.
Revisiting - never to retrieve, but to deposit just one more thing.
I am sure I elicit some suffocating fear
of being unearthed again (and again).
I am more than half-tempted to make a break for the door
as if I were the coward responsible for the deposition of every hunk
of life or death that now form the walkways in this room.
But then, this is not the maze - I know and I have known.
I am the only labyrinth here, yielding no trace of a thoroughfare.
I am left smacking into walls more menacing
than the one I will continue to stare through.
Corner after corner after corner,
each its very own long-dead end.
