The children play. The flowers bloom.
Where is the dark, the damp, the gloom?
My eyes now see these things anew.
Is this the place I thought I knew?
This land of golden, shining bliss,
Is different from that dark abyss
That slept down deep inside my mind -
That place where all my demons hide.
Why do the birds now sing with glee?
There is no storm - How can this be?
Are my thoughts so warped with time;
Distorted by the dirt and grime?
Perhaps the thoughts inside my head
All choose, with time, to fill with dread -
But now I've filled my world with light,
And found in that a great delight.
~ C. Spies