Locked In The Dark Room
Locked in the dark room,
the smell of old, rotten files,
swarming with silverfish—
memory\'s graveyard of desires.
Past emotions, bleached and fading,
on pages worn and yellowed,
lie as echoes of a forgotten script.
Cobwebs weave webs of negligence;
dust clings like veils of illusion;
roaches creep through shadowed corners,
whispering of heaps of dirt stored within.
Yet beneath decay\'s hidden mask,
the silence throbs with sacred breath—
traces of the echoes of Eternal Self.
What rots must fall away, as snakes shed skin,
so holy light can seep through cracks—
revealing what endures when all else fades,
our true essence—eternal, pure.
MyKoul