I look through the weathered window White painted wood frame, chipped and faded Four square panes standing in quadrants of simultaneousness The top left pane clear and crisp Looking out all is peaceful Colors blend in dancing bouquets The sun reflects in and warms my face as I gaze out An arena of syncopated rhythm the beating of my heart aligned with all drifting outside Then a cool gust of wind pushes through the opening My gaze lowers to the pane beneath The façade of the glass is blurred It pushes my gaze within I see the harsh dark and wakening truths The ones that aren’t let out I bite my lips together to ensure nothing escapes Swallow deep, deliberate and push all down and contain No one sees through this pane to what is behind, to what is held inside A bird flutters by outside I glance to the upper right pane but it is too late I try to find it, searching through the shadows I sense there is something there but to no avail The darkness blinds and reflects only the outline of my round face Blank of detail or substance Void, unknown to me I can hear chirps of truth from those who do know Then there is silence and it beckons to me I stare down, the final corner Nothingness It is not dark, it is not light It just is, elusive and omnipresent all at once Breath pushes in and out The potential to unveil The existence of utterances held still Unknowns surrounded by barrenness Swirls move around me Sparks summon me to glance below to the sill The sturdy foundation holding this pane-filled view Four panes aligned perfectly One which is all knowing One which lies within One hidden from my view One standing in absolute unknown They all sit, together Upon this sill Sit they do, together, on this sill
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AuthorSome times I write. Even less than "some" times I share what I write. For those moments that I write and want to share I have done so here. Archives
December 2017
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