How Does the Place in Your Mind Look Like?

I imagine my mind as an old temple,

with a tall gate left ajar.

It was so 'cause it wants to preserve 

the stillness of the place, 

and to welcome visitors at the same time.

If you would pass through that gate,

you would discover that the temple

got no ceiling at all.

There are tall, cold,

and smooth stone pillars though,

which seem to be supporting something above,

but you would not bother to look up

to see what they are.

Looking at your feet,

you would notice rough cemented ground,

which ran vastly along the whole temple.

It wants soles, but not their smell.

It keeps them safe, but leaves them callused.

You wouldn't dare to look at your sides,

'cause you would know there are walls,

but won't actually see them.

Just the vague shadows from your periphery 

would suffice.

Beyond this, there is nothing more,

yet you wouldn't be led to think

that the temple is empty,

There is an air of fullness in it.

There is an air of desire for growth,

purity and beauty,

yet already blemished.

The farther you walk,

the deeper the air gets.

It could be stifling and suffocating,

and you might leave, running out the gate.

But if you'd sit in a while,

breathe a little and endure it,

it is likely that you would lock yourself in.

I Forgot the Meaning of Defeat

It came to me again, at dusk.

All was gray and gloomy.

Even without opening its mouth,

I recognized its cold, raspy voice.

It moved close to me like a dark cloud,

so heavy that it hovered the place,

as if it was empty.

It was my enemy.

It used to send chill to my spines,

and make my every limb tremble.

But that day, I was prepared,

all equipped and strong.

"Come to me," it said.

I shook my head.

It smiled with hidden deceit,

and offered me its hand

in false reassurance.

My lips parted as I uttered,

"No".

The wind grew strong and colder

with soft yet murderous whistle,

but not a hint of fear came to me;

I've grown bolder.

Then the world suddenly stopped,

and was filled with ringing silence,

not in peace but with deeper darkness.

I opened my eyes with nothing to see.

I listened with nothing to hear.

I walked with no direction. 

And in the nick of time,

my enemy pierced me with my own sword.

The excruciating pain dropped me onto the ground,

swimming in the pool of my own blood.

It knew where to struck me,

and hit me, and beat me.

It knew the kind of pain 

that would bring me to my knees.

I tried to stand up, but my will failed me.

I thought, I grew strong,

but my enemy, stronger.

My mind was preparing for an nth-time defeat.

I thought that it would eternally be impossible,

to win a battle with yourself.

Yes, it was me.

Rather, it had been me I was fighting with.

Amidst the great length of hopelessness,

my sapped out self-esteem,

and unresolved confusion,

came a dazzling blinding light . . .

It was more ardent than the sun,

yet older than the oldest stars.

It was a light brighter than the brightest light,

blinding, indeed, yet vivid.

Marveled by its overwhelming glory, I looked up.

At that moment,

for the first time in a mileage of time,

I  forgot  the  meaning  of  defeat.