Disarmed, Again

When I’m done with my castles,
I’ll resort to circles, round.
On your face, your eyes, your hands, open wide,
Sans tools, wild – lest you be harmed,
With hammers and chisels of
Every shape and size.
Yet, I’ll break thy mould
And leave you disarmed.
To come unto me,
Undo my chains.
They leave me bound
And gagged again.

Together in the ocean, we shall stir,
A storm unseen and never heard.
Then together, depart to lands of green,
In your eyes, map of the world.