The glass in the window was very old.
Glass is a time-lapsed liquid.
Dripping and flowing,
so slow that it's a hundred years or more before the glass is distorted.
Time has snitched on the windows solidity.
There was a time in Time when the window was newly forged.
To look through it was like looking through nothing but the air in front of your face.
But now,
the drips and the wrinkles,
the waves and the curves,
make everything on the other side shift and shimmer in an unnatural manner.
I was once asked
( during one of my many hour long gazes through thick, liquid glass),
why doing so didn't seem to give me a headache.
I would shrug.
I mean, how the hell should I know?

The best days to look through the old glass was on rainy days.
Or nights with full moons....
On days that rain splattered the glass,
I imagined that the rain drops would taunt the old window,
and the glass would push and struggle and strain to move faster!
The drops of rain would laugh as they raced down it's face.

On the nights when the sky was clear,
and lightening wasn't at war with the rain,
the full moon would tumble like a star through the old glass.
She would fractal into ten or more likenesses of herself,
at which point the duplicates would shoot out,
flying from their shared center.
The tiny moons commence to chasing one another around the grooves,
up the drips,
over the waves,
and then down the runnier parts.
Soon the moon was too high in the sky to play in my old slow moving window,
and returned to work as a serious and languid silver orb in the night sky......
Telling the oceans what to do,
and the witches when to dance naked around tall fires.

© All Rights Reserved