Windows of opportunity, squared off panes of tiny inuedo, shared spaces.
Can I see through them. Their tiny lines of engrained and compressed knowledge. How were you made to see into their elabourate plans?
One pane of glass can hold a million dust mites all cornered together to make a design yet unknown to it’s maker. Morsels of dirt hang on, from long lost plans to spend the day cleaning them into brilliance, holding a treasure of knowledge of when it all happened.
One piece of wood shimmed into a larger piece combined with nails can give a complete look at the finished product.
Is this the window of opportunity we applied for? Is there a vision or a visionary to the process of making the glass see through? What are you looking for when you look into the glass only seeing the otherside of the same thing?
Rain dispells the clarity of the sun as it tries to shine down in a blurry activity of squinting your eyes. The drops that obscure the outside world drizzle lightly cleansing the dirt form the outside.
Dew drops in the morning mist adds to the stream as you reminisce. Your coffee cup anticipates a days beginning, as it sits on the ledge awaiting your mouth.
I wrote on the window yestersay did you see my message? Did you answer in your own words on the same pane of glass? Maybe you chose another one, your own design for the question.
The wind can cause turmoil on a clean window. It shadows the clarity you had so intimately cared about when you washed it yesterday. How can you find out the truth?
One large mass of glass, multi colours nestled into a work of art, a small window atttached to the door. Small veins of welded metal hold the vision firm for decades, even longer if careful. When does the creation change? Is it due to the light reflected from the sun or the lamp in the living room? Is it still your vision or someone elses thoughts that still transend your world.
A window of opportunity does come knocking sometimes. A voice through the glass calling you to come play. A face smooched into the clean window with surprise and laughter to generate a joy not held before. Sometimes even a baseball thrown shatters the glass into a thousand pieces of sand, no malice intended.
Can change invite freedom, replacing the scattered intention for an opportunity of change to come your way?