"The Sound Outside Two Windows" By James Long

James was the second submission to the challenge. 

A whisper to the window of consternation’s trance I whisper whilst incensed by unduly bedazzlement of poetic license. A celebratory exclamation to another window though seemingly this time it is of an offering display, I am just trying to be faithful to this inane triage of mind's query, to find the monument of constitution adequate enough to maintain strengths in will to fulfill the ache of yearn. However, the entrancement of policy keeps it all to an auspicious quake of quell upon quarter, with sharer and I’s quantifiable quibble making our complacency more so quixotic. Though how to see the relay of calm to audibility within the misinterpretation of one sound outside two windows somehow disavows a shared frequency. How else does the eldest per se of such a wily diverse order come to be the most deferring to the yearn, properly accented foremost of what is on display. One would consider not listening to the uproar of consideration, to such offering, as thus abodes mystique for want veers more powerfully than requisite stake. Yet the whisper so overpowered does opportune better reward, with reservations of absolution.

And to not speak of the desolation is to bring about just as much a quandary to my mind to know, affirmation as I may think it, afar due in plentiful hue art of thought too stubborn to mistake, that it’s a must to instill the uncovered truth to amass an understanding versus a continuance of ponderous possibilities. May a caster of prose suppose inspire by abounded muse of original and tawdrily unique iteration upon interpretation; that one would think to read more than once so whence understood come comprehension? So mire the prospects of inaugurals where to emanation spawns determination, if it’s grasped, through thus findings will find resolutely. Of cause for what cause for the whisper or the yell, who’s to tell. It must be of my mind’s delusions to hear one sound two ways of windows yet paired, the pains and panes though sealed still hold taunt awry to my name upon thus rarity of call. Where am I, so unkempt upon my own self’s inner inceptions; that trickery and deceit meet me in the reflection from one mirror to the other a match the same through my diamond eyes, and indeed I must be bound in inanity of oust to ablaze with tendency adherent to a disposition fraught with suppose. Are I to involve upon reach to confine another’s benign heeded loss of resplendence for my own sake wherein dependence at this moment is so new that I know naught of how to co-depend or keep to self-reliance, neither? To have heard such sound unrequited to each other’s plea though of the same call, I fear the is no keeling to my will, I must best the struggle to find the unwind of tension to better appreciate my mind to be found again, filled with apprehension.