The Key and The Magic Word

The lungs continue breathing

The heart continues beating

The hair continues to grow

while I remain locked up

in the upper chambers,

where no breath reaches

where no beat resounds

where growth refuses

to grow.

The universe continues to spread arms

The existence continues its sacred dance

The life continues life-ing

while I remain lost

in the maze of mind

whose walls stymie the expansion to infinity

whose pattern strips Calliope of her dignity

whose darkness shrouds the divinity-soaked

White Doe with death.

For how long

can I remain locked

with the key in my pocket?

For how long

can I remain lost

with the magic word in my heart-locket?

Until I am ready.

Until I am ready.

I am ready.

Key clicks.

Word whispers.