Windowless Mind

Windowless, the mind can only peer in upon itself, looking for knowledge to build upon, extorting wisdom of yesterday, memories filing by in a private parade of passivity. Touching upon sorrow tenderly with petals of roses yet in bloom, their fragrance recalling many times of remembering before their time. Relating and experiencing the past as if it were just now happening today, bringing about a sadness for times of yesterday. Wistfully thinking, looking into days gone by, old age seems to have crept upon a being when not looking at all, sorrowfully looking from guarded eyes. Seeing if any of the years have stayed behind, sadly noticing that very little has, this heart is pulled a a little, causing tears to fall. Touching the mind, bringing it with a jolt to the here and now, remembering with the deepest sorrow in all the world, no one has been here for me at all. Not crying, no tears fall from these eyes, there's barely any self pity to be found, sitting across the table all of life, being polite, praying to God for respite.