Fogged Windows

through Fogged Windows the landscape resembles the
continuous journey that would lend me hope, embracing the finest never-existing moments that once were.

through Fogged Windows I never ache rather am healed,
and it lasts good alright, and the smoothness of the
window's fog is the hand that triggers.
And me:I'm shoot outwards in ecstasy, so that time
is not palpable in any form.

through Fogged Windows the lands of gloomy sorrow enlighten me, and the breath of seagulls is casted upon us -- nature's way of sending bliss -- and the melodies from heaven are being shot downwards as well.

how can you not take part of it?

I can, for the signs are not oblivious to me.

To
get
to
dive, streamdown, like a submarine being sunk.
By

itself.