The cold front I can feel coming on the window's smooth surface.
A cool wind blows against it and I can almost sense it...
a windswept field of the mind so free of distractions.
No positive or negative distractions.
No flowers, grass, weeds, birds learning
to fly above the zenith of the sky. An oxymoron, there is no zenith
to the sky just as there is no end to the capacity of the mind.
No limits for the expanding of our thoughts or perception.
Past the barrier one still feels the wind and the cool air
chilling their skin.
Anticipation maybe, memory also.
The memory of a sense feels as real as the sense itself.
One wonders if the barrier is real at all.