Thoughts While Listening To The Four Freshmen
Sometimes it feels as if the world
is filled with unrequited longing,
which is made invisible by the noisy
dust of everyday commerce; that the subtext
of existence is neither dusty nor noisy
but a profound longing to be lying side
by side in the dark silence with a companion
in deepest connection, where nothing needs
explanation or reason, where the line between
here and there, you and me, has vanished
in the rhythm of common breath.
Sometimes it feels as if sleep
is the gift of wisdom.
Sometimes it feels as if the world
is filled with unrequited longing,
which is made invisible by the noisy
dust of everyday commerce; that the subtext
of existence is neither dusty nor noisy
but a profound longing to be lying side
by side in the dark silence with a companion
in deepest connection, where nothing needs
explanation or reason, where the line between
here and there, you and me, has vanished
in the rhythm of common breath.
Sometimes it feels as if sleep
is the gift of wisdom.
