I sit here at this window

My eyes glazing at the scene, misting at the fog

I could talk to you of memories

Of diving head first into cement

Of being picked up and remade

Only to dive once more

I could tell you of bright eyes and dark days

Of black outs and white outs

Of angel's wings covering me in shame

Or is that protection?

This window is a figment

It is an illusion

No glass or bars will keep me from plunging into feeling

Or simply into the loss of it

As I sit here…

I could speak to you so silently you would only be able to touch my pain with your eyes

Of the anguish brought on by abhorrence

Of the agony felt like rain

Hard, Bleak, Callous

As it worms its way again into my life

Into my vision

How did he hurt them?

Why does the pain never cease?

Is she really the receiver of my forgiveness?

As I sit here…

I realize the lie

For I am standing.

Courage at my front,

Terror guarding my back

But I wield so much, or I suppose I wield nothing at all

The breath that throbs through my body

The kiss of existence every time I try to dismiss it

The demands of my heart as it is emptied of everything

Food, Hope, Desire

I only wish…

I only crave…

That as I sit here at this window

I would tingle with the conjuring of a fantasy of a Great Life

The one I have lived past and through.

The one I am in and beyond.

I would join in.

On twirling through endless time and air

Not thin but universal sky

Full of endless reliance and security

I would jump through no illusion but infinity

I'd peer down on all that Made My Difference

So many, but only five that I blame here

Not one in the same but found as a duo

One bold, sociable, electrifying

One soft, exhilarant, and profound

Two martyrs of a lost life; broken and worn, lifting above the trash

Another duo so unalike I would dare the sun and moon to be more different

A ninja with blond hair, without his skill of contending with breath

would I be sitting here now?

He approaches the window, eyes that rapture, a soul that reaches

So indescribable, only One can contain his entity.

The last…

Her eyes blue, one in a million spots of brown

As at age 45 she looks at me as a 14 year old

I'd love to hate her, and hate to love her

But I love her all the same.

As I sit here…As I stand here…As I lay here…

I breathe the breath of years of Home

As real as reality

I sit…I stand….I lay

And watch as the earth spins round and round

Right outside this window.