Gray gossamer of bygone days,
the ash bequeathed by desuetude:

today, the cobwebs must come down
with dust and rusted chandeliers,
the creaking floors and shrieking doors,
the wailing stairs and riddled walls.

Those molded tomes and warping shelves,
the closets of moth-eaten threads,
these peeling ceilings, feeble beams,
the dangling shutters, shorted lamps,
and furnishings no longer fit:
they are to be dislodged for good
along with waste of yesterdays.

The clouded windows shall be cleansed,
tall hedges trimmed, thick vines cut back
so sunlight gilds all halls again
and stagnant shadows may be chased
from any room too like a tomb.

A spotless hearth will blaze anew
and sanctify this space thought cursed.

Let blessings only dwell here, yes,
not one phantasm of the past,
for now begins the exorcism
evicting darkness at long last.