Friday, September 19, 2014

La salle des sceaux

Four walls, no windows - light is not allowed here.  Only a door.  Made of iron black with age and wood that no longer knows it was ever alive.  The brightest tapestries do not fade here, an incomprehensible blend of vibrant colors against a backdrop of fabric that ages silently with no real reason to do so and certainly no witnesses.

This is a room where a line means something.  Where the boundaries are etched in marble with diamonds and the lines are drawn with the blood ink of generations and honored forever.

This is a room where forever means something.  Where the walls whisper, "You are infinite."