One’s Boundless Room

Is it surreptitious glee
rooms manifest,
knowing their illusory reward
is short lived?

Still

Whether of walls for leaning,
or facades of imagination,
rooms influence.

Those of childhood's privacy,
urge growing up.
Of adulthood's responsibility,
provide momentary retreat.

How mirrored they become,
these lock and key sanctuaries.

For some…
reflective patch quilts
for insulating exposure.

For others…
walls seal inward security,
fortify against outward fears,
become unintended enslavement.

Such simple boundaries these.

Man's hiding places,
four walls,
floor,
ceiling,
occasional window,
safe enclosure.

Oh, how we cling.

Hideout number one-
the office room,
glass,
wood,
metal,
digital vibrations.

Hideout number two-
the bedroom,
shaded windows by day,
draped windows by night
for Adonis of mind,
amazon of body,
satin sheet illusions,
sliding pain away,
softly postponing reality.

Hideout number three-

the kitchen,
necessary bother,
gotta eat,
gotta drink,
maintain biological needs.

The quintessential hideout-
the bathroom,
water for cleansing,
toilet for wasting,
real mirror for validating,
or not.

And on it goes

The fortunate find THE room,

that place of dreams,
obscurities divine,

where forgotten innocence roams stairs,
around corners,
through the shadows,

into the light,
planting Mind's flowers,
growing in spite of suffering's drought,
becoming as one,
inert, yet cosmic within,
remaining perpetual by the day,
month,
year,
eternity.

Such is one’s boundless room.