The necklace got ripped apart,
pearls fell, scattered, cried,
they flew away, disappeared.
Rolling down, going anywhere,
rolling back, going nowhere.
Don’t forget this feeling,
looking for something,
as thousands of pages dance and soar,
travelling through the tunnels.
It’s all connected.
Soaring pages, drifting thoughts and flying pearls.
What are you looking for,
as your pen is running out of ink?
Who are you looking for,
as its golden plating continues to flake off?
With the waves still flowing,
with sand still rustling,
you paint chaotic mortal desire,
shining midnight blue,
as your eyes close,
and with a single tear,
you start falling down,
and begin painfully rubbing your eyes.
Dots spin, spirals swirl,
the scenery switches,
and you see a grassy field.
You break into an infinite run,
because this is your universe,
and all you want is to live there forever,
free of the rusty chains
of the ghost of reality.
So where are we headed next?
How many universes can you create?
How many can I?
There are more worlds than there are people,
even if all we did was lurk in the shadows,
even though I’m seeing a stranger in my own reflection,
for a thousand years,
and endless ink drops,
under the sound of a sorrowful violin,
remaining within us,
because all is always connected.
Our universes are one,
they belong to us,
we belong to them,
we belong together,
under the lullaby of our closed eyes,
they itch and grow heavy,
and our distortion,
oh, we meet again.
We blur the lines,
‘yes’ meets ‘no’,
it’s the two sides of the same coin,
protected to death by a palace beast.
That dreadful roar pierces matter,
it brings silence, nothingness.
So which is more?
How many infinities equal silence?
How many words hold the resolve to shatter it,
so we can get the best out of both?
You open your eyes.
At a marble staircase,
sleepwalking, blindly following the shine of the moon,
as I whisper to you:
What are you looking for?
Lost objects meet each other again.
Who are you looking for?
We will meet again.