and I want to write about love
but today I don’t have enough
my pockets are empty
my mind is full
but only with silent sufferings and yearnings
all my abashing confessions
not so silently rage consumes me
fueled by fear sleeping deep inside me
and I want to write about love
but today I don’t have enough
matter isn’t singing
visions mere hallucinations
lacking the soul of the world
once again invisible to me
but I promise you
that something still lingers in the light that touches your fingers
and I’m sorry if today
my eyes don’t light up honoring the day
just tell me about the light that holds dust
dripping it softly to the carpet