Souls do not diverge in ways of meaning.
Yet they part their ways when fear checks in.
Curving spaces hold our bodies leaning,
Never let us loose to feel the skin.

Idle tries to comprehend creation
Bear no count to atoms, chances, stars.
What’s that shadow hung in desperation?
Honeysuckle’s ghost on rusty bars.

Long ago stars touched the fragile flowers,
And they never wondered for how long.
What made you decide to waste what’s ours,
Sacrifice what could become our song?

We are walking knee-high through the greenlands.
You are touching stones, just like before
You were brushing my skin with your lean hands,
Holding me like cello on the floor.

Well… My chapter of the barren story
Might not quite be what you had in mind.
Like museum relics in their glory,
I leave all our ersatz roles behind.

Empty spot in an unfinished painting
Could have been the moonlight, so it seems.
People in those grayscale prints, now fading,
Actually were seeing colored dreams.