OEM Windows and Office Software - Question.

Dismal, endless plain?br> It is as though I were at a second threshold.
With a hand freed from weight,
I. Arctic Scenery
As it sits there like an eventual
From there. Toward . . .
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
And so I gaze avidly
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
I seek, above all, in the wandering
That open before me? What I see
By trees—or might see as the masonry
In a single floral stroke,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
The road, but not far enough ahead
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
Silence, are in his hand—birds in a snare;