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Secret Room

poem by Ken Holmes, Summer 2011


Secret rooms
Hidden inside temples.
Ushered in with bated breath
You behold the glaring image

Secret truths
Concealed within eminent minds.
Allowed into their world, trembling,
To glimpse the naked truth they share:
Such a lonely privilege.

It burns in, like acid etching.
The horrible rhetorical question
Makes the jaw fall, aghast,
Gaping more even than Mahakala's.

How can so many get it so wrong?
How come... so many famously "wise"
Have still no yet visited
The ultimate, timeless room?