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Right?
Like when following an image from a train.
Your eyes can't keep the passing landscapes
from being swallowed into endless distance.
Like when holding a fistful of ashes.
Your hands can't save the things that
have already been dissolved into air.
Like when facing the sun through a window.
Your skin feels warmth,
but it can't be in the world that its warmth has made alive.
Like walking alone through a lucid dream.
Like saying your name aloud in an empty room.
Like witnessing my body standing in a mirror.
Aching to be seen.
Aching to become real.
But the beauty one finds alone is a prayer that longs to be shared.
