Poetic Reflections: Exploring the Fortress of the Mind

As I am confounded by life now, as I was in my youth, I retreat, as always, into a world of words, written on pages and assembled in books. These books surround me, forming walls that at times serve as battlements, the fortifications protecting me from the external perils of an incomprehensible, harsh, and hostile world, or so I tell myself. In other moments, however, these same walls are the confines of a cell, isolating me in solitude, depriving me of the air, sustenance, and human interactions necessary to life and sanity. Thus, the world of words is both my sanctuary and prison.

Of course, playing the poet much of late, and a bad one at that, I transmogrified the above thoughts, into the following:

I retreat, as always, into words,
Pages inked and bound in books,
Encircled by these silent guards,
My fortress walls, my quiet nooks.

At times they stand as battlements,
Shielding me from the world’s disdain,
A citadel where reason reigns,
Against the chaos, fear, and pain.

Yet oft they turn to prison walls,
Confines of a solitary cell,
Where air and sustenance are scarce,
And human warmth does not dwell.

This paradox my soul sustains,
A life in letters intertwined,
Sheltered by and yet constrained,
By the fortress of my mind.