THE JOURNEY’S ANSWER: FIRST CONVERSATION

Awakening to the window, looking out, the majestic bronzed sculpture of a woman stands

The bird flies onto her hand that stretches upward in exaltation of the wakening morn

The clear blue sky pokes through as the blanket of fog lifts around her sculpted features

While all the while, she stands strong through the changing scenery steadfastly like a beacon

Waiting as if in expectation of the newness to arrive with certainty of its everlasting beauty

The night has become the morn from yesterday’s past to today’s beginnings filled with life

We become each other with the blending of this nature’s transparent growth looked outward

What has been seen today that is different from yesterday’s visions crystalized clear and bright

Made possible by the moon, so soon past, cutting like a knife through the forceful rays

Piercing into the visions seen defined by a pause in time’s weathered faces progressing

Change is only clarified by the sun’s warmth to transform into our windowed visions

Memories happen only through engraved channels taking pictures as snapshots of time

Frozen in the insistence of time’s clock ticking loudly at the divisions between the window held

The insistent clarity of the window, so thin, easily broken yet transparently strong held together

We depend on the divisions created in this quiet statement once proclaimed as a miracle

The path of thought leads to reflections, of course, shining with the sun’s rays to create

A prism of refracted colors break into a rainbow of different frequencies worthy of acclaim

A vision through this windowed division, a statement of changed viewpoints, is filtered

Only a small slice in the air through these filtered divisions claim an inside and outside

Horizons are thus bent forever to etch the memories inherent and decided by the rays’ paths

The inside’s existence, so dependent on the decided boundary, determined by the windowed panes

Cuts through the silence making inside and outside spaces yielding no entry to each other

Only apparent is a looking through in stoic silence reaching out to the other side transformed

The unobtainable beauty of the other now shows itself apparent in what was once one

Both now co-exist, without one will not be the other, as too the sun and moon casting light

The inside is kept protected separate from the outside by such a fragile transparent presence

Silently respected by beholders and survivors seen only now through shuttered glances

Without you, then would I not exist, as if to say, muffled voices buffered and bent reflect

Without you, not would I be, says the other side, quietly nodding in ascent by its existence

A schism now existent bespeaks of the origins of thought, reflections, divisions and unity

Would I not be without you?