Yellow sunlight filters through dusty
windows,
Soft and warm to the touch, almost
inviting.
Yet I remain in my sanctuary, my prison,
my bed.
Eyes still closed, my mind imagines what
lies beyond those windows,
My only doorway to the outside world.
A vast expanse of ocean, perhaps,
Its waves crashing and retreating in an
endless dance.
Or maybe it is a forest that awaits,
Filled with the quiet chirping of birds
and the rustling of leaves.
But I hear no chirps, no rustle, no
crashing waves.
Of course, I knew perfectly well what is
out there, all along.
Nothing.
There is nothing.
Were I to open my eyes now and stare out
those tempting, taunting windows,
I would find only the void staring back.
