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The Woods, My Home

Donald P. Goodman III

Version 1.0,
My chamber towers high; my ceiling sees the sun, which sprinkles rays around my room and renders bright my splendid space; and sunlight seals the day's sweet run long after deepest darkness turns the noon to night, the black a blanket cloaking and enclosing me, the muted shine of moonlight and the sparkling star alighting countless living columns; I can see a chamber small and cozy, close but stretching far. I live within this chamber, though it has no walls, although its roof lets in the rain, and all may roam within it; I know that this fortress never falls, that ever will these pillars hold my dearest home.