My Sanctuary

Four frozen walls
Stood mighty still
Gazing upon me,
And the dancing dying fire
Blazing out lit,
Under the pressure
Of all the lives
I had not live,
I gazed into the midst
Of my golden surrounding.
Escalating thoughts
Mindless fading,
Sinking into the depth
Of ideas mounting.
The desire to journal,
The tendency to be heard,
The need to be read in silence
Not assumptious absurd.
The light gone out slow
Timely for dawn,
Fixated on the view
An art of beauty drawn,
Hearing cuckoos woken
Nature's morning yawn,
Anchored in the now
Living in the present
All too fond.