The Soul House

A stair ascends without a wall.
It leads to rooms that shift with thought.
The ceilings bend, expand, and fall,
Rebuilt by every fear you’ve brought.

The windows open into seas.
The floors are made from layered time.
Each corridor divides with ease,
And hides a chamber wrapped in rhyme.

The library stores what was lost.
Its shelves are stacked with words unsaid.
The weight of memory counts the cost,
Each volume bound in threads of red.

A courtyard blooms with sudden sound.
Its fountains speak in hidden codes.
The stones are seeds within the ground,
The air is scored with secret odes.

A hall of questions arcs in glass.
Its pillars change with what you know.
No answer stays, all shapes will pass,
Yet pathways branch and still will grow.

The attic keeps untested plans.
The rafters hum with restless schemes.
The drawers guard forgotten spans,
The windows ache with fractured dreams.

The cellar holds what you conceal.
Its doors are locked, its air is dense.
Yet once unbarred, the truths reveal
A scaffold made of consequence.

The house extends through every mind.
No single map can hold it whole.
Each visitor will learn to find
A different House, a different Soul.