It was a shelter. Just to hide a tired soul. Like a pilgrim who had given up and waiting for deliverance. I rested. To catch a breath. Before the breath would leave. Like faith that had left it shackles. It was a moment stolen from time. A void that nature forgot to fill and in that brief silent moment I closed my soul to the world around.
But it was a shelter. Ephemeral. Where life would seep in, onto a troubled soul. So I left seeking for an asylum in my delirium.
A search for peace. A search for eutopia.
A fable of life.
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