The long view

It is never a good day
when I wake up staring at the long view.
The horizon is bleak.

The sunrise muddied and vague.

I stand atop the walls instead of safe within them,
and see what does and doesn't lie beyond.

Hope's hearth, it's warmth, does not spread this far
for that I would have to return to the keep.

But I can't pull myself away,
and so I stare, desolate and resigned.