And so it has started again.
It was safe for a while,
But all havens must end.
Perhaps it's all for the best.
This so-called haven,
Though a place of rest,
Has become a cell.
Over time, the mind
Kept adding walls and
Layers, in spite of itself,
Like some obsessed builder.
Keeping out the doubts
And the fears, the walls
Also kept the occupant inside.
Away from those who might
Scale the weathered walls.
No one will break down a wall
Without knowing why
Before they try.
Have the cold walls of the dungeon
Become translucent?
Perhaps even
Transparent?
Is that really a small fire,
Flickering in a dark corner
Of the cell,
Beneath an open window?
Shivering and pale
At the thought of such warmth,
The occupant ponders
Escape.
sjk