Into the Sealed Chamber
the mind rummages
with the splayed fingers
of a child seeking a coin
lost in summer grass
seeking the look of glitter
the feel of substance
not a stone, rich
with its own history
but a bartering piece
or a cudgel to scrape
surface, go deeper
into the sealed
chamber, adorned
with any remaining
wishes and the songs
yet to be sung.
Go now, enter.
Breathe. Let your eyes
be like fingers,
touching. Let your ears
select the sounds
you need to do
the work only
you can do.
