what is this we are doing who are you being and where are we going
were you the person I was before I became what I am now and have I forgotten you?
do our times meet or do we remain two separate parallel lines for the rest of what is, and have you grown away from me?
do our realities coexist or coincide or superimpose overlay and merge or do they flick and slither in the dust like two dying fishes?
or have we always been, two friends in disguise and two dualities of a singularity, attached to the other, like the rain and the wind?
what spaces do you leave when silence engulfs the air, leaving it pregnant with sign of death, what are the reasons for your concepts of good and evil?
where do we go from here, where do we come from, how do simple questions rally from the complexity of unity and when will I know?
when will I know the color of the self, the faces of the eternal, the light in the murk and the worth of my gold?
when will I know you, the I that speaks, and the voice that listens? the senses that collude, the marvels that fall beneath the horizon, only to speak in fission and dissapear into nothingness?
when will questions run out of fuel, when will time come to rest, and when will I sleep?