And I find myself looking for windows that show me something different,
something that drags light from lampposts and let's it seep into my soul.
Although I know that the hands that do so exist separately from my plane,
there's a glimmer, or rather a spark that starts a fire in the middle of the woods.
The smoke travels through my veins into the empty spaces in my mind and it
brings back a clarity within the cloud of reckless indecision forced upon me.
Where the simplest wisps of illusion create a reality that begins within a reality
while wide awake and knotted in creeping vines rooting me to an idea of oblivion.
And maybe that is what we search for amidst the pain of living in a Dreamer's domain;
Creation in the ashes of destruction the same way volcanic eruptions fertile soil
and the same way disasters bring us closer to love than the miracles ever will.
Perhaps the enigma of existence is simply breathing in the sulfur and knowing
without a doubt that life without something that can end it is as meaningless
as knowledge without an essence of beauty and passion to ignite a dying soul.
And you find yourself looking past window panes and opening doors leading
to the definition of nowhere to find an anchor to the limitless possibilities
when the only question that needs to be answered and the only answer to be found
is within the walls and intangible elasticity of an uncontrolled mind.

(m.e.)