I am steadfast.
Steadfast in my stare.
My stare into the wild world.
Wild world stares back.
Stares back at such a timid soul with contempt.
Contempt I can see in the wind and rain lashing.
Lashing my glass with fury and force.
Force for which I long to throw myself.
Throw myself through this window and into the wild world.
The wild world, alas, would simply throw me back.
Throw me back and laugh, “unfit is the timid here!”
“Timid here are swallowed as Jonah was!”
Jonah was indeed swallowed and yet survived.
Survived by the grace not shown in the wild.
The wild knows not of grace, only the civil.
The civil must stand steadfast in this knowledge.
This knowledge divides as sharply as this glass.
Glass thin, yet strong, transparent yet impenetrable.
Yet impenetrable means both “impassable” and “private”.
Private is my timidity as I stand steadfast at this glass.
This glass is wet, cold, impersonal and yet protective.
Yet protective is often meant well but taken worse.
Worse than timidity is the belief of its weakness.
Weakness lies only in our misunderstanding of fear.
Fear keeps me on this side of a cold, clear glass.