Glass Houses

Above the storm clouds,
the pink of the setting sun can be seen
away in the southwest.
It's different up here;
everything's bigger, emptier, clearer.
It's lonely and breathtakingly beautiful.
There is nothing here but me
and the occasional wisp of cloud--
even the birds don't come up so high--

and we live in glass houses,
so I say nothing to you.
We live in glass houses,
and I, so serenely, watch you as you make your choice,
and say nothing,
because we live in glass houses.

Where once was tumult
is peace.
Where once was passion
is void.
All this is empty, and I am alone.
Your choice cannot affect me
any
more.