Window out;
Window in;
Window.
What hath thee for me?
What is it that I may see
When standing in
And looking out the attending
Panes while inside idles elder time.
What is that unforeseen line
That weaves cloth of fine
Silks with the insulting braids of a rope
Twisted and tied tightly to keep hope
Of dreams abandoned and forgotten.
What has this window misbegotten
Outside, on the other side, of wanton
Wonders, pleadings and poetry readings
Asking, “does that glass offer wiser headings;
Is that frame the reclaim of a poem’s place?”
Does the past offer any key to a future race;
If you stay within, then will you ever see
What holds or means this pauper’s decree,
“One cannot see nor keep a window’s view”.
What have we left that is not old nor new?
Is this window a fragment upon time’s queue
Reflecting a yearning of what awaits
Or a ruing of great regret that late was fate’s
Hand - that neither opened nor closed the window’s view.
Window.
Window in.
Window out.
