The View From My Window

The View From My Window

Distant heights and snow capped mountains
Shine cold beneath the half-moon’s light.
Blue and silver,
Black.
Brown by day,
Clouds tear on peaks,
White too.
Cold wind in the morning
From those mountains.
Chill breeze in the evening
From the sea.
I came here to freeze my heart,
Ran here to bury my soul,
Flew here to spread my wings,
Walked here to gather my spirit,
Looked here to search for myself,
Stood here to see the stars shine,
From space.
The coldest black of vacuum reaching out
To touch.
I came here to sing,
Unhushed,
Yet unheard by any I knew.

But I forgot the sun.
Its light at setting.
Rosy glow,
Red light,
Makes even the snow look warm.
And then banishes it.
The damage done in those
Quick moments!
The sun will never know
Not thinking to look down.
And the ice will never tell
Fearing to look up.
And the mountain sighs,
Bereft of each.
And having both.
Even stone cracks,
Too often expanded under sun’s kiss,
Too often huddled under snow’s shield.
We quake,
The mountain and I.
And go on.