There is a house I built
for my soul to live in.
It is not me or who I am
but I love it all the same.

There is a garden I tend
for my thoughts to dwell in.
A beautiful wall surrounds it
but it cannot contain me.

There is a painting I work on
to reflect a reality.
Splendid colours on a canvas
that hides shades of gray.

In all these things I am
but I am not these things.
A comforting beloved cloak
discarded at the end of humanity.

Published by Yaku Potgieter

Live Simply

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