Oblivion

I lean over the side of the bottomless well, watching the murk disappear into oblivion.

The well extends beneath a crumbling castle, rising above me in an array of crenellations and loopholes.

The castle surveys from the top of a hill, gathering fallen chunks from the walls.

Surrounding the hill is a forest, standing on it's carpet of leaves being woven by the wind's skill.

The forest lives on an island, an island that takes a day for a raven to fly across.

The island is in the middle of the sea, forgotten by all but the waves and the gulls.

The ocean is enclosed by a tent with starlight for thread and the sky for fabric.

The stars are all that is left in the world, and I am one of them.