In Search of a Room With No Windows
I stand outside
In a parking lot,
Feet crunching
Against the gravel
As I walk toward
The entirely flat,
Empty landscape
Just beyond the lot.
It stretches as far
As my vision can reach,
Just barren, uninhabited earth,
Strange and stark
With no landmarks
Dotting it’s surface.
In sudden succession,
Hundreds of cyclones
Drop from the clouds
And crash to the ground,
Quickly forming into
Whirling columns of
dust and debris,
Charging toward me.
I turn and run,
Seeking refuge in the
Building behind me,
Yanking open the door
And proceeding down the hall,
In search of a room
With no windows.
But there aren’t any.
Oversized glass windows
Line the outer walls
Of every room,
Quivering and rattling
As the cyclones near.
I picture exploding glass,
Jagged and fragmented shards
Flying into the room,
Striking me,
Injuring me,
Crippling me,
But there is nowhere else
To go.
The roar outside
Becomes deafening,
Like a thousand
Freight trains
Hurtling my way,
And the floor beneath me
Begins to shake,
Alerting me to my
Impending doom.
I crouch down,
Close my eyes
And cover my ears,
Only to awaken
Suddenly in my own bed
To discover it was just a
Dream.
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