in spiritual havens

There up from the warren of tunnels she'd creep to visit him only when he was asleep. Her home is now lit bright where once it was dim – that maze of deep passages hidden within. It was once a house filled with dark hallways and rooms where too long his sadness he'd sheltered and groomed; then it was a mansion a seaside abode where many emotions he'd packed up and stowed; now it is an alcove with one or two stairs this place where to visit he doth proudly dare. What started in Texas is blooming, you see, in spiritual havens on wild Bali, brought forth through hard labor and great inner toil these places whence much of his failure doth boil. The ego did do it did hide these things deep to later catch him up while counting his sheep but he understands that the voice in his mind is not one that's truthful virtuous or kind; the ego is weaker than this awake heart for here from the place of his feet he will start to root out the sadness that lies at his core and live in harsh brightness henceforth, evermore.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥