The Outerworld I

Looking out past the cracked windows 
of this tried tenement building 
blankly stares into the busy ice frosted street.

I sit and watch the passing machine, humanity 
every one a different shade size or identity. 

The world we know is a fragile show 
of what is real and surreal just beyond our senses…

I sit & watch, feeling the Outerworld turn 
in its quite dark orbit around my inner eye.

People pass not knowing the truth of the other world, 
as it burns, I feel it just beyond on my grasp.

Reaching completely clumsily into the veil 
looking deeply into a fragile-looking glass.

Looking past frosted crack windows 
feeling completely analog  
looking cryptically into the world. 

This moving machine, 
moving slowly as humanity 
a flesh and blood machine fleeting…

Watching the outer sphere turn 
              Waiting for what is coming to burn!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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