Dialogue with a Window


What you see is what I see,
What you see through me,
My reflection in your glass
Tattooed with trees and grass,

Here looking out, there looking in,
Window made of skin,
World a room turned inside out,
Brilliantly thin with doubt,

What is ending, what is starting,
Joining where, where parting,
Who dissolving, who created,
All born all annihilated

In one great outburst of bright light,
Seeing and in sight,
No God shouting thou shalt not,
Just Adam wondering what?


Another short poem while I work on the novel. I think the universe must really be like looking at ourselves through a window. Identities are confused by their totality. We humans are unique in our ability to distinguish ourselves clearly. The Fall is a night where we see only the reflection. Yes there is more that could be done with this poem.

Current draft:

August 26 2015


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