Quiet.
Peaceful.
The dim, golden light, like the last rays of the sun before the end of the day,
Captured and held here all night.
Contrasted with a harsh fluorescence,
The glow of countless excited phosphors being struck by high-energy electrons.
Sometimes soft ambient music can be heard.
Other times, the air is filled with the majestic reverberations
Of long-dead composers,
Or the overpowering harmonies of modern music,
Accompanied by one unrestrained voice,
And fed by one unrestrained heart.
The hard corners and flat walls are hidden,
By soft blankets and patterned quilts.
The walls are a patchwork of pictures,
Hand-drawn or pre-printed,
Each one has a story to tell.
Piles of well-read books,
My dearest friends.
Organized clutter,
“A place for everything, and everything in its place.”
Nothing is insignificant,
Everything has a history.
The brown and white floppy-legged donkey,
Perilously perched atop the CD tower.
He was a gift from my girlfriend,
The first thing she ever sent me.
His black marble eyes watch over me
In her absence.
A hand-drawn doodle, a space battle,
The clash of rebels vs. an empire,
Brought to life with sharp pen strokes.
Filled with colored pencils, brown and orange
With searing red explosions. It’s dated
August, 1994.
There’s a bulletin board somewhere in here,
But you’d be hard pressed to find it.
It’s camouflaged as the walls are;
Covered in history.
Ever and again I have come here seeking refuge,
And ever have I come here and found that – and so much more.
This place has inspired me, fostered my creativity,
It has housed me, protected me, sheltered me,
Hidden me, exposed me, held me, helped me,
Filled me, and raised me above a troubled world.
The world in here is just as complete as the world out there,
Where the sun is beginning to rise again.
A complete world, with a sun, and a moon,
with day and night, continents and countries,
and countless lives…
Including mine.
I lost myself in here,
And I found myself in here.
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to my Sanctuary.
