Sand Castles

Notes of sheer silence scraped along cobble stone floors as I walked to the castle chapel. My thoughts were buried deep in the space of my own world and hardly knew a tone of reality as I continued from corridor to passage and from one desolate hall to another. Light coming through the windows seemed to be snuffed out as soon as it passed through the panes. I was alone in my thoughts not to mention alone in this dismal abyss of a structure. How had things gotten to this point? "How else!" I stated almost aloud to myself. I closed off every entrance; every door and gate to this tomb was walled in. I hardly even looked outside any more because I knew that all I would see was a desert. At least no one could touch me here. No one could lie to me or hurt me again. That was the only way that was I free. 
On the way to the chapel was the armory where I keep trophies of battles I had fought. My defeated enemies' armor stood hunched over from years of derision for their masters' loss. Turning the corner you can see the entrance to my extensive library that would make the library of Alexandria look like your nightstand. I either authored or translated every last one of those books! Along the passageway leading up to the chapel, I keep my art collection. Each piece depicting a time in my life that I dare not forget. People will try to tell you that I have the memory of an Elephant. Honestly it's just that I depict these story in so many mediums and revisit them so often that I am assured to never forget what they did.
The thump from my knees hitting the chapel floor resonate perfectly in this empty room. I could install a carpet but that might make me to comfortable. I often come to the chapel to pray and ask God questions. It seems the thing to do. But I wonder if my prayers are also snuffed out as soon as they pass from my lips to the cold air beyond. I am somewhat afraid of Him too; afraid that like everyone else, He might change and decide at some point to leave.
This castle is such a self decorated coffin filled with my treasured battle trophies, libraries of what if's and murals of memorable heartaches that filter out any light claiming the right to reveal their true worthlessness. That's right, I know far to well that I'm just a packrat hanging onto junk. It's good that no one is here to mention that though because that would utterly destroy my reason for walling this place up in the first place.


The very self made walls that were built to keep me from harm are keeping out people that I love. This has to end.

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