I look thru panes
In timeless settings,
Of windows framed
In their reflection,
By spirits fashioned
Of unworldly landscapes…
There I detect
A man, tho but a spec,
Reflects in decline
A wary face
That could be mine…
As I look o’er
Thru delusory panes,
I can now see
That empty face,
Of wanting features
Be man’s reflection,
All but erased!
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The man who wears the face that could be mine…powerful.
Thank you Paulette…In essence a reflection, of what I sometimes see flash across my mind, that of what man is in the process of blindly leaving our grandchildren, and more especially theirs.
Something a little less black follows, tho a little Poe-ish, to let one down easily… Jean-Jacques