The song comes on
And everytime I find myself in that room again
There's no weight to it, no discernible heaviness
Just the initial waves washing over me
A lingering missing, not tied to a place or name
Just faceless emotion, older than I am
Sharing itself among every individual
Inside each in a different incarnation
Mine is a deep pit filled with superfluous everythings
Where life scatters in fragments
Dispersing into the sky
To come down as rain and snow
I pluck its crystals from the air
Pocket them as I move along
Life is a rhythm, they are its song