I rearrange
the furniture of my mind.

So much so
that the very chamber
ceases to be furnished—

perfection.
Empty headed
perfection,
level in every absolute
way;
I can cartwheel
and headstand
without worry–
an unfurnished apartment lifestyle
suits me amicably.

And God looked upon all that He had made,
and, behold,
it was good!

I look upon my newly unfurnished mind,
and, behold,
I say the same.

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my mine: