Silence becomes the stalker
by walls of pensive captivity, naked
windows streaked by rich moisture
needed to inflect end of day visions

Secrets so very deep lowered by
a pail so long ago, now just a
remote overgrown well
no longer used for wishes

Yet for the curiosity of the abstract
remembrances in this mundane
aloneness keeps my sanity striving
for the deepness of answers

Destiny not to be a contributing force
for a seeker need not settle for
what one is delivered as meant to be

So be the windows opened for freedom
falling walls to become the stepping stones
when mind and body escapes exponentially
with dreams unencumbered by limitations
and the revelation of being is ones wholeness

(c) Windows four Walls of Discovery
20October2011
Vivian L. Dawson