Tour
I look at myself, stare at my soul, peer into the swirls of my mind.
The empty halls and crowded storerooms are strange to behold.
I wonder if I like what I see.
The mansion of my mind is shrouded round about with clouds.
I start at the gate, letting myself in with the turn of the key that so few others possess.
The path is overgrown with a few new weeds.
I push open the doors. They squeal on hinges, large but often unused.
I peer into the parlor, where the nice things are on display for the passers-by. The carefully dusted furniture, the well-placed stack of books, the bright smile;
Oh yes, everything is in its place.
I step past the big windows, padding down the hallway into my study. A thousand scraps of ideas lay strewn across the floor.
Volume upon volume is set on the shelves; History, Literature, Law, Theology -
I have a sizable collection.
I read for a while, but facts and statistics feed the soul only so much.
I stand and stride down to the ballroom, where all my happy memories play. Here ghosts of my joys and moments dance a waltz, ever going round to the tune of a simple man’s song.
But I must continue; I shut the door, and approach the cellar. I take from my pocket another key, smaller, tarnished, and well worn.
I pull open the door and catch a whiff of melancholy. “Ah, yes,” I think.
“I’m in the right place.”
Descending the stairs, I pull from the shelf a candle and light it. The dim flicker accents the expanding darkness.
I watch the wisps float about me. Here lie my bad thoughts, gnarly and pale whispers that speak with voices only I can hear.
It’s a very loud silent room.
I hesitate a moment, yearning to turn around. But there’s one thing left to see.
I shuffle towards the other end of the room, my eyes downcast. I pull up on a ring in the floor and step down into the yawning mouth of my Self.
It smells bad.
Here are my secrets, my sins, my filthy thoughts and actions few will ever see.
They grin at me, white teeth set in obsidian specters. I hate them, but they will not go away.
I just want to leave.
But I gather them, one by one, and I call them out. They’re mine after all, and they have to listen.
I lead them up and out of the hole. And I call out my sadness, and they follow too. I lead a procession of ghouls into the sunlight.
And then I call you.
I line them up in the hallway. Now I take you by the hand, and slowly, slowly, I introduce you to each one.
I show you my Sadness, my Guilt, my Hatred, and my Prejudice. You meet Selfishness and Regret.
But you aren’t upset.
You are my friend, and I must show you me. All of me. These Thoughts and Deeds lined against my walls are part of who I am, and to know me you must know them too.
I wish they weren’t there, but I could not pretend they’re not.
And you smiled.
You looked at me, you looked at my hall of ugly things, and you smiled.
You told me you were glad, you said you weren’t here just for the good things and pleasant times. You’ve seen just about all of me now, and you’re still right by my side.
Those beasts trembled then.
Thank you.
