The tower of a thousand windows lives by its rules. It believes that it could undress me as I project in its glassy eyes without restraint. The man who lives inside the tower is tired of seeing my figure in its windows.
Each time I look at the tower, he shouts,” Who is that which I observe as myself that is not me?”
In its tallest window, I can hear that a bell is crying as if there were no future in its vibrations. I tried to answer back, but my voice got fused with the sound of the bell. Our vibrations became one with the wind, and so we found freedom in our silence. In such impossibility of communication, I sighed. My sigh became a drift of butterflies that knew no limits.
Oh… with each sigh new butterflies surrounded my body until I began to float with them! If only the man in the tower could see the beauty of being without boundaries of belief. What could I do if the man imposed on me his view of the world? If only he could show me what I could not see? If only he could listen to my perspective which is his blind spot?
I celebrate you, you being you, but who are you? Are you a bundle of uniqueness that dictates without sensing through your senses other selves? No but perhaps I react in pain. Are you a transparent self that lets others trespass your belief of being? Yes but perhaps I am afraid of feeling too deeply. Are you a reflection that fixates in the fear of diversity? No but perhaps I am alone. Neither but both, transparent but solid, bound but infinite, who are you? I am the man that is in the tower but I am the outsider that wishes to be acknowledged by the being that dictates my fate from afar. I am both but neither as I float as a butterfly in silent beauty.