“Think Outside the Box.”
This axiom is an accusation
for all who are lost in apathy and acedia.
When all I see is wall, wall, ceiling, floor, wall and wall…
How can I escape? How can I get out?
While it’s intended as a call to creativity,
it can come across as an echo of your inability.
Inability to dream, to think, to reason, to move forward, onward.
Symptoms: Lethargy, Immobility– Diagnosis: Coward.
At least that’s what it seems to a mind in chains,
enchained by its own powerful delusions.
Facts and delusions march on by in a masquerade parade,
and with my sketchy eyesight, I can’t tell one from the other.
At times the box is calm and serene, a world unto itself.
At times it is severe, piercing, searing pain, a hell unto itself.
Think Outside the Box? If only. If only it was that simple.
Stockholm Syndrome or a love affair, it’s hard to tell…
I am the Box. The Box is me. This mind, this skin, this body.
How can I think beyond this space? Beyond this frame, this faulty frame?
I can call to mind Promises & Remembrances & Songs & Recitals,
but they simply join the parade and push me up against the wall.
Maybe if I scratch and scratch and tear and tear and tear up this wall,
I can break free from this prison called Myself.
But this Box is also a Temple (and yes, I know that interpretation might be faulty).
And within this Temple, somewhere within this Box
There is a light.
No, not the parade spectacle,
nor the flashing party bulbs–
But a light. A light. A light that transforms this box into so much more.
An Upper Room.
Not to say the Box is the End All of the Heavenlies,
but perhaps an Antechamber, a Foyer, a Narthex.
There are still four walls, a ceiling and a floor.
And the time will come to “Think Outside the Box” and more.
But for now, I must search for that light…
It’s been too long.