Something leaves wounds open Like the cracks in the soil, to make the rivers. Something forms time, Though it will not come. Something creates sounds for listener's ears, Though I am deaf. With all of my pain, I hold my future, in rotting hands. I speak with brittle words, Reciting delicate verses. I write down the memories of something timeless That did come, Full of sounds, I did hear, Coming through as tears, I did feel, breaking the dams of my eyelids. Leave the lakes to form, I will do, In remembrance of you. Why was it so simple to dream in the night Of a face dressed in white? Of a face now marred by tears, It is hers, in the light. It is now so hard To dream in the day.