Days of Blur


If one’s world are all the eyes could see,
then mine is an arm’s circle.
But this closed space is everything I need –
a singular station rooted
within bounds of stone.

Brick by brick I have built the walls called distance;
burned each bridge that were once silver and gold.
The empty moon hide thorn-laden grass.
A moat of silence keep the phantom siege at bay.

This castle of one is my own peace.