What is a word, but a thought trapped in time?
Seeming to float, with myriad meanings, to float on an invisible line.
What is a voice, but a thought, in sound?
A flaying of reason, a reason to float, a thought, perhaps drowned?
What is courage, if yet, I cannot speak?
Where go my feelings, if I fail, become weary… weak?
Who am I, but a transient pilot… a soul…?
What is a soul? I think you know.
You’ve gazed upon mine and I on yours.
You can’t touch it, can’t feel it,
Can’t buy it, can’t steal it.
It nestles, they say in the heart.
What is heart?
A million fingers point. A million sighs are breathed.
In the end, it only matters if a heart given is received.
If one becomes two, and two become one…
Then to those two concerned, half the work is done…