On this cold December night, with the icy gust of the winds blowing just outside my bedroom window, fleeting thoughts of my life's window dance before my eyes and I cannot help but see the vast array of space just waiting to be drawn upon. This...along with the cluttered corners bearing marks drawn with either intricate care and detail or hasty thoughtless slashes and shapes.|
For there within the carefully drawn lines and fine detail, I remember that they were drawn by those who loved me best and brought me great joy and special moments. But then my window also bears marks of ugly misshapen objects drawn by those who brought me immense sadness and infinite pain. Those too, I cannot forget. But none other than myself will ever see this because that is my life's window.
So now I cannot help but wonder about the imprints I left behind on other people's. Did I draw with the fine strokes of an artist's hand? Or did I casually draw without care or concern? Sadly...there will be some windows we will never get the chance to draw on again. Upon reflection, it is wise to understand one should not be so careless.
On a more careful analysis...please ask yourself...
How are you drawing upon frosted glass windows?
Copyright © 2002 Christine Fernandez
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So many times I stare at the vast white space called my ceiling, and I ponder endlessly about the impending future. Will it bring me great joy or utter misery and sorrow?