Lead me from this golden stair
To be clean again and breathe fresh air.
Mind’s place not beware
Of fears formed in forgotten haste.
Scared not of placements bare
Like apples in serpent’s care.
My fruit to grow kind and gentle
Growing ripe under sun’s circuits snare.
Oedipus, like fleeing from emotion
Right to where he began his song.
Never lose bare kindness.
Intellect’s coldness; Haste, despair…
To patience and great care.
Freedom gained, life without Father’s death…
Free from Mother’s love not quite reached,

Deeper scars than even the wells of gold.
Leave this sordid place, never bare but filled with barren
Gold.

Take me to the barren space
Inside my own emotion’s cases.
Picking only the gentle and the kind
Leave golden pillars far behind.