The room within is always known,
but most denied, repressed,
for therein lies the truth of us;
the worst, not that called best.
But labels are convenience,
which others do demand,
and in the bitter dross of Self,
is where our Soul is found.
We only fear what we don’t know,
or what the world rejects,
and in the muck and mire of it,
is gold so finely flecked.
The one can only find itself,
when all is brought to nought,
and in the place of zero,
the one can be reborn.
There is no place of tortured hell,
unless we make it so,
for good and evil are just names;
the battle helps us grow.
When demons are so locked away,
they grow in power and strength,
and so does fear – dark terror’s bride;
to face them makes more sense.
And as bright, focussed consciousness,
illuminates dark realms,
and frees diffuse awareness,
so we do find ourselves.
So what would you find in Room 101, or what would you like send there? While you’re thinking about that, let’s get on with the poetry.