My Mansion

I live in a large house,

A mansion

Of stately proportions,

And more open space than the carefully curated décor can cover.


The warm red exterior brick walls

In A flowing Uniformity,

Seem stretched out at odd angles

To be both tall and wide,

Invoking the reverent awe of the onlooker.


In play, I often try to embrace

these inviting walls in the front,

Where the creepers grow into fragrant canopies of romantic color;

And in the midst of this strange caress,

My eyes behold only an unending mass of neatly stacked bricks,

Sometimes, merging into the sky,

Sometimes, bending out to converse with the mango trees


Never an end, but always growing smaller with each visit I make.


The insides are a cool white,

Marble and glass,

Adorned by a bit of green and color;

In seemingly alive paintings,

and in ever thirsty foliage.


Yet when I step inside,

There’s a sense of foreboding etched in the very air I breathe;

Silence embraces all that’s white in a single shroud,

And these mirrors seem to converse with each other's emptiness.


I fling open a door,

A piercing, earthy smoke befriends the nostrils

And beyond burns a fire,

Surrounded by books - fodder for both itself and me.


And behind another lies a beckoning bed,

With the sweet scent of mechanically enhanced lavender;

More than 7 times my size,

Waiting to lull my senses into a land where nothing is real.


And behind another lies bread,

The stench of hunger is palpable,

Reaching out from within me and filling the room in thunderous rumbles.

Food attempts to comfort in vain,

More than enough to sustain;

Not satiate.


And another door slides into the familiar scent of unfamiliarity.

The parlor that entertains,

Large chairs to render legs ineffective,

Beautifully scattered unreal flowers,

And the imposingly large artist’s impression of the house itself.


And many more doors containing strange scents and sights,

They scare me.

I run to the room where my scent has made an impression

And close the door upon myself.


I live in a large house,

But I cannot be within all these doors at once.

And it scares me,

What’s behind them,

I know not;

And so I’d rather not leave.



Large manors and small homes. A metaphorical take on the internal and externalities of self and the structures we build and live in. Do share your views.

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