What exists in the space of sleep—
the permanent return to an eternal dream.
There is love here,
when no questions remain.
There is light here, upon which
every soul understands its purpose.
There is me here, struggling with silence
and a discontented heart.
What is left to embrace
when we enter every eye
and find empty spaces.
Acquaintances in passage,
transient connection only in a furtive glance.
Where will we be when nothing satisfies restless need,
but an instant savior,
a tangible item for the trophy of memories.
Who will we be when the loner
seeks the comfort of humankind
and becomes lost naked in the air.
What is our destiny when the mind stops listening to itself?