Is looking through clear glass

the same as being outside?

With my eyes open wide,

pressed against, I reach an impasse.

A chill frosts my skin;

bitter cold stiffens my joints.

My heart disappoints.

A tear slips down again.

I lean I closer

I can almost see

I'm living absentee

I feel like a poser

So near, but I can't touch.

Straining hard to no avail,

I see every detail,

A resistance of the world, outside my clutch.

I've tried screaming.

But my voice was muted.

My very existence, executed.

No matter, I'm only dreaming.

Do I imagine the grasp?

Are my limitations my own?

My emotions harden, turning to stone.

Lungs aching, I continue to gasp.

A light warms my heart.

It promises salvation.

Will this light be my creation?

Or will it tear me apart?