Sleek polished windows
Behind a dazzling array
Of winter trees.

Frozen water of the lake
Rippled into place
By winters gentle touch.

Peace of sitting within a warm cocoon
Gazing upon the world without
Emptiness of thought
Without soul-numbing grief.

The motions of others
Are their own
They are not for me to contemplate

I can sit back
And revel in the motion
Without worrying about the A
Or the B

Lines
Straight. Curved
or tangled in unshakeable knots.

I am distant from the details
All I see is the whir and the blur

The buzz is disconnected from me
But loud enough
that it keeps me from my internal threads

Those tangled
messy
knots of thought.

Perception.
Realization.
Acceptance.
Peace.