If I could talk to you now,
fix my gaze on your face,
or rest in your unwavering embrace;
I would never let go.
I wrote those lines again, for it being so dear to me.
This is a story of a broken man.
***
Lately the broken man has been living in his head.
Is it because the rest of him is dead? Well, he is dying for
the truth.
Is there no way back from here?
Is there no one who would be pleased to meet the man and say “Pleased to meet you”?
Take my side,
take my hand,
say your prayers;
for I do not care,
even if there is no way back from here
All his life he is searching for something, the something
that leads to nothing.
The broken man is never satisfied, for when that something
does comes around, it is taken away, leaving him with the feeling that he feels
the most.
