From my journey...

From my journey I circle back---
why ?
Why didn't I return,
the street, countries, continents, islands
I once owned and called home ?
Why,
instead,
did this borderland choose me;
and what does this haven offer
but a wind that whips at my face
and flowers blackened and beaten down
by the long winter ?
Oh, they accuse me,
saying:
He is so lazy,
Master of Rust,
who cannot bear to leave
his hard haven---
he just slowed, then stopped
until his eyes turned to stone
and the ivy veiled his gaze.