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The Window

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  • The Window

    You speak about it

    As if it were a portal

    To your potential

    What lies through it

    You see, oh God, you see

    Yet you cannot touch

    Or breathe

    Or be

    Waiting and wondering

    When will someone come

    To lift the pane / the pain

    ‘Til you wake

    Should you wake

    To the window’s truth

    There is no savior

    Pushed-up sleeves

    No unsung hero

    Only you

    Still you deny

    Who am I

    To set myself free

    It’s been so long,

    Painted over, nailed down

    Prematurely bound

    Yet, in the stillness

    Before the pane

    You come to believe

    “There is no path to freedom

    That does not go through me”

    So you come to the frame

    Feeling, groping

    Raging into time-worn sutures

    Shaking, heaving



    Bathed with effort’s dew

    Flesh on wood


    It yields

    Yawning open

    You breathe

    Shallow, testing sips

    Then deeper / Deeper

    Inhaling possibility

    Potential once obscured

    Now revealed

    Exhaling the wail

    Of loneliness and futility

    A complacent disconnection

    You pause

    Lean in, and look

    No longer apart

    But not yet a part

    Of that world

    Out there

    And then it happens

    Reality tumbles softly over the sill

    Into the reservoir

    of your crossed legs

    Conspiring into the soul

    To what use

    Asks its voice

    Will you put this portal

    Will you simply sit, and gaze

    Flirting with the scent

    Of a life that calls

    Illuminated, yet still


    A denizen of breath and sight

    Subsisting on wisps of essence

    Yet never taking your seat

    With friends

    To feast

    To weave

    To span the chasm

    From what if

    To this shall be

    Or will you

    In some way, your way

    Traverse the frame

    To set ablaze

    A world that

    Only you can claim

    And then you notice

    A deeper truth

    The window, it seems

    Is not an end, but an invitation

    A passage to invention

    It was never about the window

    But the will to step through it

    And then you wonder

    How can I

    And then you realize

    How can I not

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