A house is built

To hold you up

And hold you in

Where did it begin?

Walls build without windows

To keep you safe from sight

A floor your fear makes solid

To keep you off the blight

But even in the basement

There’s a little yellow light

The wind creaks

The lightning cracks

The rain is pouring

It’s your attack

Sometimes you start to wander

Of the Crimson woods outside

You crack open the door

But you stand petrified

All the trees were cut down

To make your neat abide

The roof is falling

The walls are creaking

The doors blown open

Your lie is leaking

You lay in your silken bed

It’s as warm as it can be

But your palms grow cold

Because of what you see

The sky glows above you

And sings of being free

Time grows short

The upstairs is gone

There’s only to smile

And catch the wind

You are stuck forever

On the line you dare not sever

For fear of learning that those stars

Are not but burning gas

It’s no wonder that you grow numb

When your new found wisdom

Is sold cheaply at every pass

It’s all gone

all but the floor


You’re falling

And then your eyes open

Written about the fruitlessness of holding on to a false paradigm.


One Comment Add yours

  1. Dad says:

    Number one: never explain what your poem is about… the interpretation MUST be subjective… otherwise you reduce it from four dimensions… to two.

    Number two: This poem is really about death and the uncertainty of what lies beyond.

    Number three: You Father will always be there for you… ever after death.

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