No-Wall Rooms

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

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

Those of childhood's privacy

urge growing into adulthood's responsibility,
sans our insistent retreats

into escapism.

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 unknowing enslavement.

Such simple boundaries

these hiding places.

of four walls,

floor,

ceiling,

and occasional window

with safe enclosure.

And, oh how we cling.

Hideout number one…

The office room
of glass,
wood,
metal,
digital vibrations.

Hideout number two…

The bedroom
of shaded windows by day,
draped windows by night,
where one’s Adonis of mind,
and Amazon of body,
slide pain away

beneath satin sheet illusions.

Number three…

The kitchen
of necessary bother,
gotta eat,
gotta drink,
maintain biological needs.

The quintessential hideout?

The bathroom
of water for cleansing,
toilet for wasting,
real mirror for validating,
or not.

And on it goes.

If lucky,

some find…

THE room.

That place
of dreams,
oracles,
stairs,
corners,
light,
shadows,
obscurity divine,
where one’s forgotten childhood still roams,
planting Mind's flowers,
growing heart’s gratitude

in spite of suffering's drought,
becoming inert,

yet aware,

within.

Such are the no-wall-rooms,

the continuum of existence,

perpetuality of day,
month,
year,
millennia,

ad infinitum.