Staring out this window
feeling connected
to every burst of breath
that clouds a winter sky
to every single man
that has often been denied
to all these words that flow
without ink from a pen
to ideas that blossom
in a world that can only condemn

Where is his closest friend
sitting on some stone bench
thinking he reached an end
but there are only introductions
not wayward cast offs
or frenzied moths
drawn to that electric flame
reaching beyond excruciating pain
to whatever resides beyond
such a little fish stagnant
in some overbearing pond

Up on this rooftop
bathed in a sea of light
diamond like beacons
illuminating the night
rectangular shapes
crooked lines and angles
alien musings
on the breath of angels
All the true stories
that seem so improvised
a window to the soul
to the depths
of these blue eyes

A siren wails
accompanied by an infant's cries
in sync for a moment
then it passes unnoticed and dies
As the rain splatters down
across the cracked window glass
in touch with forever
how ever long it may last

mathiasthom
written 11/7/10