Our Beloved Ones

Oh, how I long for silence, for not a single sound at all, so that through the thickness of the wall I might feel a friend's thoughts. How I long to drown in the waterfall of his stories. Yes, he'll bend the truth here and there, then smile, and correct himself soon after. Undisturbed, on one wavelength, we sail across the open airwaves. It's as if you and I are outside that system the world dreamed up. Our meeting matters more than anything — we kept losing each other in different worlds, and it seemed: how will I go on without him, to meet a long old age with any joy? I don't need a thousand faces' worth of words, of hasty confessions. I gather you out of fragments — that's the punishment I've been given. Back and forth across the Universe, trying on bodies like clothes, I'll find you — always. That's certainty, not hope. Only the mutual will to meet halfway can split a long road in two. And there's no need to climb mountains — we live in the depths of the subconscious. Turning to him, at once I'll hear you, dear friend. All the ones we love are in there, inside us, not beyond the stars — just a little closer.