The Window on the West - Part 3: Ode to the Window

[The third part of it all, I am forever beholden to thee.]

Ode to the Window

Ah, the sea of dreams. 

A young boy stood on the edge of Time, and gazed out wonderingly.

It’s been so long since I’ve these silent breakers roar. Gazed into the multifarious undulations of mystery that roll along this colourless hearse.

Pink and blue, with leaf green whiskers and snatches of despondent grey, danced where there should have been waves. The boy tried to find the sky, but it was all too beautiful. Too fleeting to try. He felt himself forgetting.

Is this it. Or has every journey been doomed since the Beginning.

A beast of a whale broke through in the distance, the gulls scattered, and the golden albatross shrieked, flying higher. Away, and away, and away.

Such sweet music.

The skylight open above me

The ship ready for its captain

I mourn the death of beauty, of Art and illusion

And miss the last train home.

Feels neither long nor short at the end

The fray’s the thing

Misunderstood Art, from now to eternity’s draw

The fray! The fray! All that I desire is with thee.

Can you give life where there is none. Can ya, punk? Plod through autumnal woods like nobody’s business. The quicksilver flight of the heart when my fickle fancies be met. People. People all around, and just them. To seek, and never to yield. The fray, how can you seek me?! I am a child of the Window. Yet, there is no life without Death, no art without Death, and nothing without the Window.

Yet you beckon me, you all-encompassing fray. To your open fields and sunburnt earth and placid grey and dearth of memory and windowless sky will I go. Ere the end, you will have me yet.

Thou Window, thou beauteous Window

How long have I gazed upon thee

Waited for the sun to light up behind your wispy veils

Waited for the next when there was no now

Waited for the truth to strike me

For revelation, salvation and being

Yet waited in vain.

From the long limbs of fatigue to days of unbridled youth

I have waited, and sought thee

From ages my simple mind could never have imagined

To people who linger not forevermore.

From fields that cried for me when Ague’s ghastly grasp had me in her stride

To the turning of the Zeitgeist, as I gazed and left well alone

To sights and sounds that my mind will know later in the day

And to the West, where I must go!

The boy wanted to go on. But there was fear meddling up the wonder. Was he not master of his own heart? His own mind? To seek?

The gentle winds of time have rubbed me a-right

Through even the tears have I persevered,

Through red foliage of autumn and days of the winter moth,

Through the rain that gently smiles,

And the stark cold that show no mercy.

Through the drabness of summer,

And the innocence of storm,

Through times I have been one with the Consciousness and more!

From now to way back when,

Ah, for the Window on the West! How long have I yearned for thee!

How long have I waited to cast mine eyes on thee!

Thou accursed, lovely window, I’ll look through thee yet!

The boy turned as I turn now. To pursue the basest and noblest of desires, if there be such things. Maybe tomorrow, said the boy, and ere today, say I!