My yin room is dark and foreboding:
A depression den, so to speak, of forgotten
Boxes and belongings.

It is here I feel sad, embracing the existential dread
Of my being; the world is cruel and cold, and will not change.
It does not know how to hold the intensity of changing temperatures.

The hallway is a liminal state,
A transition between sleep and wakefulness.

My yang room is light and welcoming:
A sunshine suite, so to speak, of treasured
Windows and cushions.

It is here I feel joy, in love with the wonders of the world
And the people in it; my heart holds immense compassion.
I spread my lightness into the sky so the clouds may feel my warmth.