The Closed Window

Somewhere out there

is a window.

Dreams float in

hope streams through

delusions slink in

fears drip.

 

This is the world beyond

the unseen reality

which science can merely

sniff at.

 

But for me this window is shut.

What is around me is what is.

No hopes, no dreams

just dreary thought upon thought.

 

For most the window opens.

For the genius, the megalomaniac

it opens wide.

For the depressed it closes.

 

And yet Christ appeared in a room shut.

 

 

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