The same window, the same view, the same sky. My eyes can’t see beyond the horizon, yet my soul and heart circle around the wind on the hills, the prairies and the windmills, the rivers and the oceans, the moons and the stars. Everyday, everywhere.
How can a whole universe be contained in a single memory, in a loving act of tenderness and in every word that remains unspoken? How can joy contain so much sorrow? How can any mournful heart rest at night if the eyes close deep into a dream? How can this silence be so tragically deafening at dusk? What is disappointing more than unknown expectations? See...everyday a ship sails towards foreign lands and disappears into the oblivion, yet its arrival is expected sometimes, somewhere. But I write songs and poems for the wrecked boat that sails the infinite and never lands, as my weary eyes gaze from the same window, the same view, the same sky.
poem & photography by Marco Pignataro