In elementary school, I always sat near windows.
They provided a refuge from the earnest efforts
of the teacher-nuns to murder my young mind.
Six decades later, and here I sit by a window,
gazing out at the forest scenes surrounding us.
After some time, I notice that as I am looking,
there is no thinking — only the looking, looking.
If asked, “What are you looking at?”
I would say “nothing”.
Another word for that might be:
everything that is, was, or ever will be.
Lizards are creeping around in the bush,
consuming spiders with great satisfaction.
Trains go by, stars go by, all of my past
and future lives pass by right in front of me.
I leapt on a lizard, rode the train, swung
on a star, then quietly forgot every life ever lived.
I tell these stories to the children gathered near
until they see for themselves the face in the window.
Now whole world looks at itself through my eyes
until it gradually becomes very quiet, very still.
It likes itself that way, so it will linger in absorption,
the seen not different from the seer or the seeing,
just one thing, a miracle really, though we tend
to take the vision for granted, we are usually
somewhere else, day-dreaming.
That’s OK, it doesn’t matter to the world beyond
the window — the blessed sky will shelter us,
even when we’re frightened at the end.
Feeling To Infinity 
How soothing, thank you.
Reminded me of this;
http://www.pbase.com/1heart/image/77164305
Love that one, great choice!
speaking of daydreaming, as I was looking at the sunrise in the kitchen while waiting for the offee I was dreaming back to this poem due to this artpiece in the kitchen. It’s called “thinking” from 1977 so 1 year after my birth, still cant picture a thinking ghost prior to 1976 lol
https://postimg.org/image/nmif1no4l/
Cool pic!