Skies too small and colorless
Waters too calm and chaos intent
The earth too round, too bound and true
Too much my hopes for you

Twist and turn, our woven ways
Make gaps no more to close
Let death be the only unweaver of us
Tied to myself, you’re close

No mountain range is worth the hike with you by side
Nor seat stays warm in conversive pace
Though it’s sad to see wasted such a pretty sunrise
Your particular light is not to my eyesight a pleasant taste

Closing eyes to remain alive
No breath remains intact
With open mind over Pacific ends
No Atlantic hope will last