Renewing the Mind

Renewing the Mind

 

The question echoes in an empty room,

The skull's dark chapel where spiders loom.

Why polish the pews of our thoughts, you say,

As the night ushers in the grey of day?

 

Word, silent lodger residing within,

As cryptic as a cat's clandestine grin.

It whistles old tunes through skeletal halls,

We listen—a leaf that quivers, then falls.

 

Guarding the heart, a soldier's last post,

Against the ghostly temptations the host.

A thump in the chest, a whisper, a start,

The battlefield of the human heart.

 

Falling, the grace of a dancer's misstep,

Under the spotlight of sin where we crept.

Yet, this misstep—a doorway ajar,

To turn, to see forgiveness not far.

 

Grace, that unwarranted gift at your door,

Wrapped in the rags of the rich and the poor.

A knock with no bill, no costly embrace,

The beggar and the saint, wearing the same face.

 

Prayer, the last breath in the night's deep spell,

The conjurer's words, the tolling of the bell.

An essential thread in life's frayed hem—

In whispered incantations, we find them.