Untitled #19

I blow lightly
and the bottom
clouds over
the clear surface
turns dewy
magic mirror of the soul
in your darkest recesses
lies that room which I sense
I am not allowed to enter
almost forgotten
perhaps locked, no,
most likely it is not
what am I looking for
when I toss about in the
labyrinths of my dreams
but never seem to find
a safe place
or a real home
or the forbidden room
my palms turn wet
can it be here?
what I fear so much - to
cross the threshold, to part
the curtain, velvety, interwoven
with golden threads, behind which
is always the same scene
it repeats itself
never changing
terrifying
incomprehensible
dimly remembered
from a distant childhood
no, I cannot
I will not
the room I am not allowed to enter
a small box forced from my hands
will I ever know
what is hidden there
what treasures what secrets
what abysses
dark mirror of my soul