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When sound, sight, and feeling are aware,

We write on the beauty of nature, 

When sound, sight, and feeling are asleep, 

We write on the nature of beauty 

Is the flame of fire a tear,

Of joy or of sorrow,

Does it lament the phoenix of within,

The hardship that comes with birth? 

You and I come from different backgrounds, 

If it were not for a split second,

We would’ve never met and transformed,

What higher power connects wormholes?

Tell me, 

Where do our souls go when we sleep?

I’ll join you there. 

Lay me in the meadow, 

Filled with warm laughter, 

Where the cool breeze, 

Matches the colour of the emerging stars,

Flash twice, 

West to East,

East to West,

Flowing, over and under, 

Silent is the night,

For the raindrops of noise have stopped,

Collected in puddles of consciousness,

Within them, 

A reflection,

Of one’s soul,