I want to love Without facilitation. I want to suffer In your dedication. My eyes have seen the waters, Same as our land. My hands have felt the wet pages, Same as those documents Of our histories. Your eyes, A closed center. My eyes, An open universe. We spiral In a spun form Where dwells existence Upon all areas of non-existence. Experience leaves us manifested In chaotic elements. I dream of a hand That holds the sun Without letting go. I dream of a world That means more That the loneliness of old. We call concepts To be outdated, Once revered in esteem. I want to close my eyes to your own, Heal my heart with your threads Woven on the stream of reality. I hold faith not in the blackness of space, Though in something to fill it. Your words Dot my complexion With the freckles of what does not pass, Not for a thousand years. Your eyes, Your stars, Remind me we have one sun To keep us warm.