Thursday, February 27, 2014

We're Not Hobbits

a hole in a hill,
a hill in a world,
that makes us both feel small,
a room at the top--
bedroom where it stops--
and a skylight that makes us feel tall.

wall of stone,
walls of dirt,
and floors haphazard all the same.
the sky above:
intact, pristine,
but far from being tame.

a garden beneath the bedroom,
and a stairway leading down
to more, ever deeper rooms
that we hope are never found:

a farm for trees,
a pond or fish,
food and timber in short supply;
room to grow
and more to show
without ever seeing the sky.

within the attic: hopes---
dreams of more to be built:
castles down in hell,
dungeon supplied to the hilt;

within the attic: desires---
beds laying side-by-side;
hard to know, what next will grow,
when we resume our ride.

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