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. Advertisements Continue reading Days of Blur