Though in my heart, where the footsteps of strangers linger,
dusted by the ashes of my torches burning
Pyres,
There is nothing softer than the vastness of our different worlds
In which for my expression
There is nothing more silent than the words.
So let me say them, let me sound them off in time,
To the clank of the weights wound ‘round your feet,
And the drums in your mind,
To a future reminiscent
Of your heart’s steady beat.

Let it be mine.