Eyes without sight, but vision;
words with love, but unsounded;
I see them thinning out
even before reaching you.
And yet you reply.
What then is it that gets through?
And yet you are sinking.
How may I appeal that you may surface?
I can't even give up as lost cause
since you reply.
My words are bit too big,
and they mean things only to me.
I know they hardly understand you.
But this is no time to determine
what is and is not my cup of tea.
I have stopped holding back.
But, your miseries thin out all
even when I am ready
to pour out inexhaustibly.
Where does all gets lost?
I suspect, this way will draw out
My very being someday.
And yet you have such compassionate eyes.
How may I then but appeal?
Deep deep deep deep deep deep
inside me, it's me there, sitting alone,
hearing voices voices,
right now from a greater you.
Why is my doom
in this that nothing but you will do?
(That I won't do for you
is beside the point.)
And then... you smile!
Smile to me once more, and more, and once...
Better you never did.
No lack of words in me.
But words for tears have sunk in.
How then may I mourn when time comes?
How may I make love?
How may I laugh again?
If only, for a change,
I could shudder at my own words.
But the fidgety angel holds my attention.
How may then reason keep me
from appealing even after all's over?