Saturday, April 30, 2011

A tiny window

There is a tiny window in a corner of the huge, hollow house that I live in
A window of my escape, beyond the boundaries of illusion
A lovely widow outlined by old, firm vines
Through it I see and feel beauty everywhere

When the clouds turn dark
And the sound of thunder pierces my weak, lost soul
I no longer run for the comfort of my bed
Instead, I stand with my hands on my favorite window

And watch the spectacle unfold outside
I feel truth dawn upon me
The serenity of little rain drops
Their soft touch on my dry skin
The gentle wind caressing me
I devour these dollops of divinity from outside
Without being drenched

It might appear small
But its mightier than the highest walls
For what vision do those solid structures offer?

When the sun shines its sharp rays pass through her
And fill my heart with warmth
It shows me the gentle march of seasons outside
and informs me of the changing seasons within -
The summers of idle dreaming
My winters of frozen melancholy
Monsoons of moist desire
All pass me by as I stand by her

What remains is me and her
Her and me
Looking through each other
Outside and within