By james777 on
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Through the untouchable, snow silent streets
Of a luckless half- absent- after-noon
Part- fractured like the creations of those million
Opulent eyes, waiting to be undone, with a casual look
I too, stepped out through that drifting frame
And presently imagined- like every other man,
Not really there- those reflections through an eternal window
Not really there- noticing nothing beyond them- but-
Those persistent words, which proved too difficult to capture
In this impenetrable frame- language must even fail-
To uncover yesterday’s metaphors behind those blank walls
I momentarily, imagined, I too had passed through, like quickened sunlight.
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