These words travel like music through water,
Swift and liquid, lost in translation to ears.
Like a song in a language I cannot
comprehend, but feel the sound glow within;
comprehend, and hum to inner songs,
as audible in glee as grief, as bright
as soul in an eye, and in you I wove
a woe that could be barely held
we pay to scarify ourselves from what is real,
and call the scar reality;
I keep running down the glass hall. You are smoke,
just on the other side, always there and unreachable.
I lay in wait, I lay in wait…
for hope’s feather’s to brush my fate.