a vision less

[cacian]

how you could sit
and write a world
without an image
you could hold?
so close it comes so
close it goes
your words are flying out of breath
worried slighlty in the wind,

your voice might not keep
up the truce
you made out
to be a dance
of elms
amongst the fearless
and the tamed,

how you could
dream up
a window's
face?
sacrilege to those
who looked
to only see,
through tainted glass,
a glory past
its sale by date.