The Unconscious

The Unconscious Here be bats and cellars, Locked and unlocked doors, Communicating corridors And bulls which do not bellow. Here be attic exits, Old men and hero's sized To fit an animal's disguise. No man may reject it. Here be caves and swallows, Cracks in doors and hollows, Which no sunlight follows, Meandering streams and shallows. Symbols of eternity Abound within this place of Self These can your conscious mind engulf With an endless creativity. At the center of it all (The end of the mandala's call) Lies something just behind the wall Which leads to life. It is the final space you enter Bliss and molding at the center, Unexpected prize not bought. It is the thing you sought. Carl Estrin