The puzzle of barriers, wall, fortifications. The deep foundations offering protection from the harsh winter weathering of fears, worries, guilt and deceit.
But as the walls protect the soft, helpless and beautiful creature within from darkness and fear, they obscure the light. Locked up for your own protection, caged by the fear of the very fears you protected yourself from.
Never to see the morning light, the storms of emotion flowing between everyone outside your solitude. Never to feel fresh cold rain on your face, washing and renewing lost and dormant feelings neglected in the corner of your prison. You are left with the rough stone walls as companions, cold, passive, dead.
You have body, but refuse to dwell, to be with it. Tucked into small pockets and corners, you find yourself peering over the fortifications erected so long ago. Your enemies have gone, long died out and dissipated in the restless passing of time, but you are frozen. The deep foundations and heavy stone walls are what you have left, the ghosts and echoes of your tormentors. They are your open wounds, never left to heal.
You have become the tortured and torturer, the prison and prisoner. You sit waiting for the end, your liberation to nothing, your return to dust, your death.
