Windows.

Rain drops falling.
Questions calling.
Ever coming, humming, running down the windows of this room.

Flooding the streets.
Flooding my thoughts.
Ever pressing, prodding, peering through the windows of this mind.

Fears quivering.
Courage withering.
Ever circular, the overture of irrational vices clouding the windows of this life.

Strength in silence.
In a spirit’s cadence.
Ever flowing, knowing, showing the lights that stream through the windows to this soul.

Posted fencing.
Words unwincing.
Ever chasing the sun, the stream, the daylight, the dream.

The chance of belief
That maybe I’d be
(uncensored, untethered, unabated, unfettered)
(weathered or weighted, broken or jaded)
(alone, alive, in sight of, in spite of)
(in color, in verse)
(for better)
(for worse)
me.

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