The Breeze

I look out of my window,
and see less than what it shows me.
Can I pull the curtains across,
to shut out the noise,
and still let the light in?
Is that possible?
Or sitting inside,
do I find a lost key
in the waxing and waning light
that finds its way to me
when the curtains move apart,
with the gentle breeze.

Happy that I found the key.
Happy that I was a part of
that invigorating breeze.
Happy that I could see more.
In that light.
Which I had blocked.
Just to shut out the sound.


Found many such keys
Unlocked many old trunks
Found some treasures.
And sunk sometimes,
with their weight.
Cleaned out others
And felt lighter.
All because of such gentle breeze.
That moves apart those curtains
At least for sometime.

And much before that,
We all looked out of our windows
In awe.
Eager to lap up every detail out there.
Glad just to be looking out.
No, not glad, gleeful!
Now we've been taught
to look outside.
Taught to see.
To watch sights and sounds.
That others want to see.

Till one day, walls are knocked down
and you're homeless.
Then you see the stars smiling down
From so far off.
And then B R E A T H E.
When the wind blows against you.
And L I S T E N
to the sounds, chirps, squeaks.
And S E E seven colours and lose count.

But for now,
That gentle breeze.
Reminds me of the world outside
Of the beauty waiting to be seen
Of visions that are waiting to dawn
In my mind.
That I've once had a glimpse of.
When the walls were broken down
And I was right below the vast sky
That the window now shows.
Right in the middle of those flowers
Whose beauty comforts me now.
Through the window.