The Paper Window
I have a window to the universe.
It sits all alone on my small writing table,
Next to my writing rocket ship, my pen.
My window has four corners,
Opaque and yet transparent with possibility,
Creamy pure white like shining snow.
Weilding my mighty pen
I fly on wings of thought into realms unknown
And perhaps I shall never return.
Suddenly my window is more
More than a four walled sheet of snowy white
My soul's deep desires a doppleganger makes.

As ink to paper my soul flows out into the atmosphere