Poem -

Window

Window

Life has a way of looking,
as a heart melted in condensation on a window,
holding itself contempt in the crash 
of the seas outside, like
a plethora of words circling mouths
in the transparent echoes of being,
crushing the sense of enlightenment;

and when the void is regurgitated
as a tide breaking on the shore,
locked in the sense of misery that
comes with greed, a need to feel more
need,

I latch the sediment under the roar of the waves,
onto the window panes of the soul,
rearing its ugly head in changing temperatures,
of life, of living,
among the tides,
on the window,
the slithers of water
look like tears
against the
crash
of the window pane,
with life,
just looking.

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Comments

author

I'm not entirely happy with this poem, something quite momentary collapsed upon my pen here. Alas, I am grateful. Good to see you here. I thought you may have disappeared for time. Hope all is well with you my friend x

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