Rooms

we all live in hutches, rooms familiar and unfamiliar brightly lit, dark, mysterious unknown and gloomy they punctuate each and every of our thoughts our voice echoes each and every chamber, some distinctly, some meekly, some warmly some coldly, some lost between winding dark and lit corridors we choose to dwell in reassuring rooms but they all soon suffocate us with drudgeries our attention turn to those sealed, which we love to think a divinity sits, who makes sure we follow through every word of his scripts written in the light of every chamber sealed with the spirit of our breaths