.
It's like trying with nothing there,
Hoping for connection, without
Knowing that you and I are lost,
Separate, etched in marbled face
Of stone, you never saw me real,
Nor I you, it was only happenstance,
The dead do not know they are dead,
As they careen in deserts bleeding,
Round living hearts, I was always
More than half divined, unliving,
It is not my fault you are blind,
Take what nothing's I once offer
In this spiny desert of Saguaro
And running sands of no relief,
Cast your visions skywards,
As mirages are miraculous,
Pray under blasted moon
And weep with me.