Window as obsolete as I
With individual panes and portals
Each curved glass carefully placed
Reflecting the inner turmoil
Centered on communication between two halves
Like parts of me that do not see the meaning
Hidden in the prisms of craftsmanship
Tribute to the futility of self-inspection
Window mobilized by ancient ropes
Disguised by the curtain call
Sliding heavenward and hellward
As fluidly as my scandalous moods
Masking the abuse of time
Window of my idolization
Mecca of my pondering
Where natural gods can be peered upon
And dust motes read as tea leaves
Divining the truth of insignificance
Mirroring miniscule infinity
My own abyss is my awareness
The numberless stars I can count
Window, the universe is tiny in your grasp
And yet compared to that universe
You and I are black atoms
Just as replaceable with as easy a division
If man can split I from your dark grains
Then my hold on this world
Is as greased as your mechanisms
Heart’s age is our betrayer
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