Every now and again, I brush the shattered ruins of what once resembled a defying stance in the face of my bleak reality. Render it to a small hill and remember how tall and might it once had been. How peaceful and how tranquil it was whenever I sought refuge from the world in one of its many secret caves. How the breeze would gently whisper reassurance and how at home I felt. How its grounds would hug my flesh, envelop me and my faults, unconditionally. That until it all came crashing down. Yet I, still, in all naivety, linger over the tomb of my long lost safe place, praying for its resurrection.