Out through the window

November 8, 2015 § Leave a comment


Out through the Window

There is mountain beyond this mist.
And out through the window
I ought to go.

But no, my time has not come.
I have to build my way up
From the root to the crown.

I know my wait
will not go in vein.
So i’ll hold.

For now I know, where
I belong, and where
I have to go.


Where Am I?

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