Wall by wall, I build my new house after the sweltering heat. The air is made all the sweeter, the scents of warm spices leading the perfumed charge. I carefully portion out dollops of mortar, and line my footpath with cheery stones. The outside I paint and dust with snow, and add garnish with whorled tiles. What did I build with?

I am made of those who never fought, In wars I started, lost and won. Plain turned to whim of liquid thought, I hold all things the black has done. I wait in silence, thin and fair, Through fire and water, earth and air.

Deep below, dark and cold, Monsters lurk these halls untold. Warriors enter to face these fiends, And leave as heroes on their journey’s end.

Pulled from a grapple, wrapped in a deer, when you would smell it, all would be clear. It starts with the waters, then next to the rust, solve this riddle and know what I lust.

I can be a canvas for art or a barrier for fears. I hold up the sky for those who dwell inside, Yet I am the very thing that ensures they must hide. I am built by the hand but broken by the heart, Sometimes I am finished before I even start. I divide two worlds with a single line, Providing a border that is yours and is mine.