The Window

Wrote this one sometime back...a bit on the philosophical side...:


In a corner of my room, still and old
Sits a window, filled with browns and blacks
Almost dead like a corpse, rotten and cold
People say it is life, imagination it lacks

I’ve seen it since I was small
It never seems to age
Ancient it looks, frame and all
As if stuck in a book, on the very same page

Ancient! Aye, I agree, ancient magic works on it
Age old saying goes, “Looks can be deceptive!”,
And deception it uses, deeper than the deepest pit
The magic forbids to us the real perspective

It is the lover of the moon
Gains life at the touch of moonlight
At this sight all the fairies swoon
Music begins and the phoenix takes flight

Through that window I’ve seen the best days
Seen the rain change to crystal-showers
Watched the sunlight fade the greys

Now I know that the cloud is sun’s wife
It doesn’t overshadow it
Just tries to hide from it the rampant human strife

A mere climber assumes an unknown nature
The flowers blush even in the autumn time
The delicate veins gain a new stature
Even the wind rejoices in its prime

The dull aged black on a building becomes ebony
The shade under a tree, a haven
The earth no longer cries in agony
All around, all you see is heaven

That window is mother of all the vistas
The ancient magic its eyesight
Anyone lacking in imagination is us
All life lost in worldly plight

Once upon a time, there was a window
In a wizard’s room, full of shine
It showed him the magic of believing
Lucky me! It is now a friend of mine.