He always keeps looking out of the window
I don’t know why but I can foresee
perhaps he likes the gusting winds which touch his face
when he slinks out of the window
giving him a sensation of liberation to move
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hereabouts beyond like the winds, for they know no barriers,
he always keeps looking out of the window
as if he is doing all this for the end moment,
trying to assimilate each and everything which foreruns him,
because growth has its own constraints
he always keeps looking out of the window
as if he is gonna heed the love of his life,
in the stranger’s passer-by,
who kens because as far as I assume
we all rise as a stranger don’t we?
he always keeps looking out of the window
as if he knows how to fly the bogus mortal interaction
because creation is the sole truth
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he always keeps looking out of the window,
as if he knows that I am observing him
because what he is looking is inside the window
and that’s why he is candid to traverse
And as he continues to do this
I will keep on writing, “he always keeps looking out of the window”
For I embrace to presume
. . . . .
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