The Perfect House

I made it beautiful over time
From the shell it had been before
Making it the envy of one and all
Ensuring every aspect reflected me
Antique furniture, Persian rugs
Rooms painted in that unique blue
Aluminium and glass wherever I could
Tasteful prints and arty posters
A library of the greatest books
And all the gadgets and mod cons
More than I ever actually needed
And when this project was over
And there was nothing left to do
And I was still empty inside, then
I wept. In my perfect house
Because that was all it was
A house, but not a home
And an empty one at that
For I used the excuse of the project
To neglect everything else
Only to then find in the end
It was all beyond worthless
For there is no salvaging of time
Would that my house were empty
And as simple as a mud hut
But filled with love and joy
And that my rooms were bare
But I could pray contentedly
And give thanks to the Almighty
And of the emptiness once felt inside
That distorted this gift of life
For that, give twice thanks
that it no longer within resides