Saturday, 27 April 2013

Window

Tiny chink of muddy light
In a room
Of darkness
Within a room.
What use is this view
To one who 
Has closed eyes
And glimpses anew
A patch of cover?

Green gold mists
Of blue shrouds
Red glitzy
Gusty crowds
Awork in factories
Of thoughts
Asleep in minds
With knots
Of a million winters.

Someone came
Suddenly a'knocking
Down walls
And cracking
Glass shards 
Of light into
The window
Anew
With sound and fury.

Fortress breached is fortress lost.
What's lost is given.


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