Four walls. It matters not the place
But soon or late you’ll have to face
And fight ideas.
I made many enemies among ideas
And they chased me and sought me
And never let me free
Until they cornered me into these four walls.
And here without family, money or friends,
Cornered, I stood and fought.
And fierce was the battle
So long delayed for they had grown bitter
I wrestled with them and many a time
Even after hope was gone.
What kept me fighting and battling so?
Yea, what makes the universe go?
My soul and I wrestled with them
For we could not bear to have them
Hang like parasites on our existence anymore.
And these four walls were strewn with
The carrion of dead ideas.
Now battered, haggard, weary and wiser
Shall I hoard the Truth and be a miser?
The battle is over? The victory won?
Who knows? Who can tell?
This only I know, please do not jeer
“Enemies we were only because of fear.”
Vancouver, B.C. — March, 1960