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.
