Power Armor Felix
Gale Gynoid
Window
Silhouetted, I stand against the bright window.
Though my eyes are screwed tight shut,
I know the outside looks:
at me, by me, through me -
despite my shroud of blindness,
I know that world does peer in.
One neat thing about this stanza is that you utilize a whole bunch of perspective changes; it's as if the movie camera switches to different shots as you alter the locations of the windows/eyes.
Cold wind rushes through the open window,
as harsh as the lashings
of cruel tongues,
Are there other meanings possible for lashings (such as ropework to tie something down?) You have to take care here, your word sounds are good, but just mixing around the usual wind being harsh or tongues lashing isn't enough to get the job done; I'd rather have the wind rush in as something unexpected, like ropes, and then have the rope change into tongues.
I reach and shut out that cold
world that shut out so many before.
The creeping warmth of solitude
was too tempting to resist.
That night I dreamt
my vision, unbolted,
I like this, being the natural development of "eyes as the windows of the soul."
stretched beyond the reaches of ordinary sight.
I looked past myself to the horizon,
at the point where the street lights meet the stars.
That night, I looked past the cloudy atmosphere
of our own tiny world, and saw
it's only one of billions more.
How about this?
Quote:
Silhouetted, I stand with my back
against the bright window.
I get the impression that you can't stand any old way, but that the window should be behind you to form a proper silhouette (It could also be a play on "My back's against the wall!"
Thanks for the valuable feedback.
I made some changes based on your suggestions, and also changed the last line of the middle stanza because, on re-reading, the imagery seemed a bit dull. The changes have been underlined.
Window
Silhouetted, I stand, my back
against the bright window.
Though my eyes are screwed tight shut,
I know the outside looks:
at me, by me, through me -
despite my shroud of blindness,
I know that world does peer in.
Cold wind rushes through the open window,
as the whiplash of an untied rope or tongue.
I reach and shut out that cold
world that shut out so many before.
The creeping warmth of solitude
enticed me into isolation's blue flame.
That night I dreamt my vision, unbolted,
stretched beyond the reaches of ordinary sight.
I looked past myself to the horizon,
at the point where the street lights meet the stars.
That night, I looked past the cloudy atmosphere
of our own tiny world, and saw
it's only one of billions more.