Catacombs

Catacombs

Showers of gentle rain gusts of
Cool air chill outside my frozen windowpanes
I should I will I must get out more often
Step Outside my door
Where air is blessing to breathe
inbreeding no deadly germs of sun deprived  depression.

It's in free and open roads
I see resilient stretches of strengthening turns and curves flow of endless possibility
Flowering into branched forks
Of  fantasies.

Life doesn't grow so well
In a hothouse of passionate brooding and breeding. ..
Boredom creeps in

I wish I could visit a farm today
And see the animals living and loving the moment
Life in a living room
Is stale recycled. ...effete
Cultured growth cut off from the roots
I want to be virile
Rootstock growing from the
Ground up
The air outside is vibrant vividly diverse
The virulent mind sheds itself
Gears shift to reverse
Fear of being taken  off course
Is Blown off the charts
Blown away like lungful of poison air
Conditioned viruses

This is the only way
lose it now
Get out go on
Till you outgrow old legs
And find your feet
On  shaky soil
Crumbling loose inhibitions
And remodeling static expectations

The windowscreens of sepulchred
Souls need to be refreshed.

The dead mind is a sarcophagus
Vaulted necrosis of closeted catacombs of barren heartland.

Feed it  sunlight rain and wind
Open up the mausoleum.
Crack the shafts of pain.

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(c) Amrita Valan 2014