What strange gravities compel you? Which strong seasons manipulate the focus of your mind? What forces are at work governing your silences and interactions? What are the properties of magnetic north that keep you so firmly held there?
Which habits formed into crippling routine Which once-cradled ambitions did you let burn away? What hope, was it you had, for all of what you started when you laid yourself beside her?
The peeling back of quiet moments… The giving birth to living memories… The quelling of hostile emptiness… All these oiled by flasks of brewed liquid…
What source of buried passion exists? What reason for the unbridged distances of family? What cold and clear window protects you from the warm interactions of flesh and blood? On what throne beyond the claws of love exposed do you stay slumped? And what reasoning hangs from these vague choices?
The flame is weak and distant the light is dim The star that shines in you kept hidden by clouds of distance and disinterest
What do you feel when you see me expanding here growing into your shape on this reflective surface? What do you think when you see me flexing skills that must have been learnt from you? Do you worry that shared talents means shared failings Do you think to warn me against their dangers give the gift of wisdom, just an insight or two is there more that I could learn from you?
There is still some hope for healing the withered roads that link our homes There is still some hope for forging a bond that will carry us into the future
O, but where are you and where am I to you? Where are you and where am I to you?