I am the architect of my own bell-jar.
I designed it myself,
took away the edges
to leave only smooth curves.
Meticulous work,
done almost lovingly
but not quite.

Here, one could get comfortable,
immune to the waves that crash around you.  
Of course you can see them, those great walls of water,
yet you are defended in your fortress of glass
borne not of sand
but of life's consequences;
biological quirks.

I saw my bell-jar rise around me
and now can almost call it home.
I frequent it so often;
I know every inch of it,
all of its reflected imperfections,
and while it may hollow,
cold,
I understand it.
Both shelter and prison
to begin and to end
with me.