Foggy Glass
All I can do is squint at the smoggy shifting silhouette
The foggy glass hides its secrets in swirling cacophonic outlines
Discerning what is beyond the screen feels like reading a foreign alphabet
All the figures are drowning deep within an inky salty brine
Others have stared at people’s windows for longer
They whisper or yell what they think is within the muck
Yet, once the glass is lifted, their projections are no stronger
So, I must wonder, is the prophecy I was given up to luck?
Now I scramble to mold to the correct design
But, gazing at the glass only reveals what I want to see
It's as though I am in a deep cave with a landmine
I would do anything for control, anything to glean the key
I am simply stuck speculating while my eyes peer just beyond my cage
The hazy contours delicately dance in front of the translucent planchette
Truly, it feels as if I am stuck, blinded, underneath my own grand stage
Yet, I am left with all I can do is squint at the smoggy shifting silhouette