What’s Out There?


I see a window beyond which
Blackness swells and calls and rolls
To a rhythm of its own making
And there in the midst of the blackness
A light, curved and swollen
Like a hive ready to burst
And the light pulses and throbs and glows
To a rhythm of its own making
I see the window and beyond
But cannot penetrate the glass

Even when I’m not depressed, I sometimes feel as though I’m watching life from a distance. I can’t seem to get beyond the glass. It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. Most of the time. I think if I knew I could always return to the safety of the room I keep myself in, I’d try harder to find a door instead of staring out the window.