The window was formed
a blessed thing
out of sight and mind.
We return in kind
this wisdom of the glass,
all-becoming.
Simply stunning in our Sunday.
Legions we seek.
Warmth emanating from the fingers.
So the weekend fits
inside cupped hands,
tremors, quick flits of eye.
Conscious visitation so resolved,
drifting persona to persona.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 