Windows (Window Of Fate) Poem by Luke Easter

Windows are vistas for extraordinary views,
A sight to hearts, minds, eyes, interior news,
That might open outward a close look at you,
Or inward like an x-ray and see clear through.

Bring a light from the other side to this end,
And allow the rays along the curves to bend,
They open the alphabetical locks of our lips,
As windows converse without sinking a ship.

Open the alphabetical locks by a kiss to our lips,
Relieve the pain locked in darkness of the abyss,
When night weaves nets of fear on window seals,
From tongue-tied laws is it Memorex or is it real?

When night weaves nets of darkness on glass,
Life-spans speak out in whispers from the past,
Windows then perforce remain silent & secure,
Oppressive nights, tyranny epochs, are you sure?

Where are secular stories of vision filled dreams?
Centuries of testimony, chasms long maybe lean,
Court yards and ruined houses mute like Boston,
Evidence of rusted eons rattling with exhaustion.

The evil tyrant’s time, primordial combination lock,
Windows have the heart for our aging analog clock,
Opening the wings of their feathers by hourly chime,
With a little waft of wind featuring different times.

With the fragrance of sunlight, rain or moon beams.
They blow away-light images from fractured dreams,
Their lives wasting away in uncharted lustful desires,
And shedding baby tears as if missing candy pacifiers.

Flying in front of windows even the birds are amazed,
Eyes glued to windowpanes become hidden by shade,
With noontide memories of a wayfarer who passes by,
Evenings look forward to solitude do you wonder why?

When they are covered with frost brought on by dew,
Springing forth rainbow colors of red, white and blue,
They fill closed fists by the touch of deadly fire-flies,
Surprised to see clouds chasing birds across the skies.

Do windows insist on being open so there’s no mistake?
An eagle, a chance encounter, the pane will never break,
What about the expense should they still keep them shut?
Afraid of the life breath only should the cost be too much.

Walls and rooms getting strangulated for lack of fresh air,
Dwellers forsaking their houses, tell me who really cares?
Destroyed without a hint of sincerity can glass rein supreme?
Life's desertion is despondent, no window is a human being.

Windows were you will clearly see pictures of love and not hate,
Square, rectangular, circled, rose tinted, shatterproof and opaque,
Windows of friendship, opportunity, snow flakes, rainbows to see,
Views forever accessible not just on earth but in heaven’s eternity.

Can windows keep on being a window when the blinds are drawn?
Unable to see in or out where fog blocks light of a morning dawn?
Yes! Because by treating this as a parable you’ll undoubtedly find,
The portal in this or any poem is actually the window of your mind.

Closing this poem darkness falls, a shadow in clear glass I see,
Originator of this word masterpiece smiling straight back at me,
Naseer and Luke many mountains apart in spirit we collaborate,
This rhyme filled with rhythm through our poetic window of fate.

w/Naseer Ahmed Nasir