Chill the window pane on my warm brow,

Tattered, shredded, drifting mist

Floating by, silently enveloping

Faces, forms, shapeless shadows,

Treading, wandering, fleeting,

Passing, moving, fading.

Somewhere, whispering voices

Distinct, lucid, faint, and distant,

Near echoes stormy ocean waves

Vying relentlessly with solid land,

And there sway faint phantom trees.

Here am I, confined, four walls,

Gazing out, searching, seeking sight

I see through the glass darkly.

In obscurity, a small pale vision

Growing, emerging, abiding,

And waning, passing, fluid time

Ever flowing forward to the unmovable.

Then, my friend, face to face, clear

This small finite window part

Expanding, timeless, eternity,

Scattering all misty indistinction

Sweet, luminous, boundless, light

Limited portion bursting into

Eternal perfection, paradise.

(A pome, by meself. Picture, Fort Ross, CA.)