objectivity and subjectivity

The sky is in anger. And thats why its red. the leaves shiver in fear. the rains pour to avenge the earth. and then there is one lonely tree with no leaves, nothing to cover itself with. it stands, erect, bare, its branches twisted and curved like that of an old farmer's, witnessing the war. distant lights houses homes with people. and i am here watching everything through a window. being a mere spectator to everything that is unfolding. or am I participant? or am i both?