This barrier of the mind,

Erected by self-love,

But not of the right kind.

Exclusive now to me,

I sit in the room,

Surrounded by possessions,

I cannot take anywhere,

But nevertheless hold them tight,

Controlling them after death,

Manipulating those final possessions after I go.

 

All the time the desire I seek,

Peace,

Is there in my room,

Staring out,

Calling out,

Shouting now,

From my precious things,

Showing their worthlessness,

A barrier to Peace.

 

As death closes in,

They are rearranged,

A wall,

Complete with graffiti of a life almost wasted,

Now revealed.

 

Peace and Love was in the room always.