© 1995

A light side, a dark side, a side I can not see.
In the corner of a corner, a place in which is me.
An image of a consciousness, small and looking strained,
A wooden box; within the cube is my soul contained.

Locked without a key, hinged without a screw,
Glued without a trace, hidden away from you.
Pick it up and shake, within it does not sound,
Searching for a soul-- a piece that can’t be found.

An Ice Kingdom; winter within.
Locked away; free from Sin.
Buried well, routed deep,
In for ever to purge and keep.

The selfish cube, six sides the same,
Eight sharpened corners on which to blame,
The hidden truth inside the skin,
So similar to the place within.