The Chamber of Truth

Tucked safe in the nest
Of the chamber of truth
Lies the essence or kernel of life.
It burns like an ember, a glowing touchstone
Filled out, fully formed and pulsating.

It waits for the traveler who comes from the North
Through the thickets and thorns of wily grown paths
Of despair and non-care and the rest.
Determined to dive to the depths of their soul
No matter how long or exhausting the quest.

This place that holds magic is guarded by demons
And monsters and dragons of fear
That scare up the pictures of death and damnation,
Abandonment, loss and complete annihilation
And strip away padding and ornate protections
Fashioned of cloth and solid reflections
Of ego-filled notions kept tightly in place.

In order to enter this chamber of wonder
The traveler strips off the skin of what’s known.
And comes to the core of creation unhindered
Humbled and touched and alone.

To sit in the stillness and soak up the light
That is given, bestowed as a source of delight.
It asks nothing more than to be taken within
As a source of creation housed under the skin.

It waits in the darkness; the sorcerer’s stone
And can only be reached when we seek our true home.

Susan McNeal Velasquez