Cartography

Once, I was a bastion. 
The world grew, by mere feet and seconds, before my horizon-less eyes. 
Under dew whispered treads, rooted new life and budded new color;
Around each chilled morning breath clung a new bird’s song;
Before each sun-kissed blink, a fresh world unfold. 
Once I was a bastion; alas, shorelines lend no footing for my cartography.