What is a window? Is it mere relief in a solid thing? A gift for voyeurs? A patient, ever-present option for the weary agoraphobe? Tangible or philosophical, a way out, or in... a beckoning paradise for the jailed and the sick, a reminder that the walls we erect around us are a choice. The edges of our worlds, finite or infinite, depending on where you look.Or is it a means of escape? A new venture? Or contrastingly, a way to shut the world out?In the context of a collection of poetry crafted by a sometimes enlightened, sometimes tortured and always achingly human soul, I believe it's the opposite: a glimpse into the heart and mind of another, where, while we're tossed on the whims of the author, we happen upon reflections of ourselves. T. Dale