The Monastery
My imagination is a monastery,
and I am
its monk
walled in by a thousand years of
prayer,
a thousand years of darkness.
I am here
to understand
and to be understood.
I want to live for beauty.
I want to die for truth.
Without my work,
I would not be here,
and the work is beautiful:
the well-turned stone,
the worn wood,
the words that have long since fallen silent.
I am the monk in this monastery,
and I
need a proper ending.
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