Window Through The Mind
I saw my face in the window
ghostly pale within the window
steering straight through me.
A translucent face;
amidst the depths of emptiness
steering back through me.
Is that my face in the window
as I am yet to be?
If that’s my face in the window
I’ve nothing to fear
in the interim
of the realm that’s yet to be.
The hand of strength
is evoked in me,
inflamed
with sight to see.
poem by Terence George Craddock

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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