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Fortress10th Feb 2024 |
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It is the mountain amidst a range. Barely visible unless one's gaze shifts precisely towards it. Yet, there it is: my mountain. And on top of it one can see it. Old and decaying. It remains there, fulfilling its purpose. Its walls stand still, weathering in the face of their existence. The towers cast shadows of darkness into the forest, now so silent. No one dares to enter. The gates barricaded. Here I reside. It's my home. This is my fortress. I walk along the hallway. It is silent. I am alone. The floor is bare, and the walls are cold. I keep walking and walking, yet the corridor seems endless. Once, doors of ornately decorated wood adorned the paths. Today there is nothing but dead stone. So, I continue, alone, without a purpose. The great hall. With grace, it speaks of days gone by. The paintings, so lively and colorful in the hues of happiness, they show wide opened gates to the festival of festivals. Sport, play, singing, dancing. Impossible was a word of impossibility. All faces are full of laughter, the atmosphere is full of joy. Then, I glimpse the present. The days of splendor are long gone. Today, only dust is a guest. The tables are decayed, the curtains drawn. No one manages to enter. The floor is bare, the walls are cold. So, I continue, alone, without a purpose. The sun sets. I stand at the base of the great tower. The steps rise before me, mocking me. I see them every day. The steps are steep, nearly impossible to climb. But I ascend. They are part of me. It is a long climb, with the thought of turning back as my constant companion. Yet, I reach the top. I light the beacon and wait. I wait, but no one sees me. And from there, I see them. Even in darkness, they are barely visible. Their lights are weak, but their call is loud. They plead and cry out, but they cannot be heard. At the end of the day and at the end of the night, they are like me: Alone, without a purpose, in their fortress. |