I am standing in a white room.
there are white walls,
a white table, 4 white chairs.
I am having trouble seeing
what I look at:
I look down at me
and I'm not there
but when I look up again
I find 3 chairs are occupied
by wicked grins, wrapped
in long white robes...
I know who they are,
they know who I am;
they are the fears I've become
accustomed to.
and so we are there
in the white room with the
white table, me standing,
they in 3 white chairs,
and for awhile I amuse myself
by making them
disappear
just by looking at them
but I soon become bored or serene.
(I always get these confused.)
it's then I notice Anima
seated in the 4th chair
and when I look right
at her I see Everything.
I speak, saying
"I don't want her here."
and someone says
"All in favor?" --- silence;
"All opposed?"
and 4 voices other than mine
say "I" at the same time...
if I don't look at them
I can see my fears are smiling
as am I, for no good reason,
and for no good reason
that I can think of,
I look at Her and say
"then I shall write a poem
for you about this
white room with the
white walls and table and
4 white chairs
and about the fears I
have become accustomed to
and you."
my fears object strenuously
by pretending to be apathetic
but Anima simply smiles and says
"That would be very nice, and
now I think that I shall go for a swim."
the chairs are now empty
but I don't really wonder why
because I am
busy writing this poem
as if my Life depended on it.