my garden is walled-
ringed by high ramparts,
and laden with heavy stone-
shrouded by miles of steep
masonry, built carefully and
skillfully by my own hand-
one by one, each mammoth rock
was placed-
it has taken me a lifetime to
construct these works-
those towering marvels-
jagged, yet worn-
cold, yet warmed by an
unrelenting sun-
those walls can be seen from
miles away,
yet no one knows they’re there-
they are an oasis of sorts-
advancing armies have scaled
their heights-
and failed-
one or two brave souls have
reached the summit, but none
have lived long enough to
breach deep enough to experience
the garden-
all have perished or been pushed
back by the rigidity of the stone
walls and by the dogged persistence
of the interior defenses-
such an imposing structure,
built brick by brick-
stone by stone-
one by one-
a lifetime of work-
the castle’s own defenses
never venture beyond the
they do not feel the need to
trek out and engage the world-
they are fully aware that their
walls are impenetrable,
and no longer desire to quest
outward into the void-
they are content in their roles-
complacent with their
within it all stands the fabled
an ethereal plot of unmatched
beauty distinct to the castle
carefully tended-
meticulously nurtured-
kept under lock and key,
and guarded around the clock-
most of the troops have never
seen it,
and those that have never
speak of it-
such beauty seen by so few-
a lifetime of work spent
protecting it-
a lifetime spent on guard-
a lifetime behind predictable
a lifetime behind-
what they have protected
has only seen a fraction of the
it cannot move-
it will not-
yet it will flourish within-
such an imposing structure-
built brick by brick-
stone by stone-
one by one-
by my own hand*


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