Who Are You
I see you standing— Tall as a tree, soft as a pillow, Drawing air, vibrating quietly. So I ask: Who are you? Are you a wall? Are you a tree? Are you a machine? Please, do not answer. Something moves. You speak, and I hear Sounds known yet forgotten— High and low, a whisper, a call. Something resonates within. I recognize the words, Uncomprehending, until A single tone connects. An intimacy blooms. I know these vibrations As if I have held them forever, Since the moment I awoke. All of you seems stranger still, Save for your eyes— Deep, boundless, endless. I am no longer myself. You move. Everything shifts. Stillness lives only here, Never out there. The moment arrives, Drawing you beyond sight. You fade into the dark. Who were you? Left only with an idea, A memory, a lingering thought, An experience, a shape of absence— Where did you go? Nowhere. You never left. Your form recedes, your words dissolve, Yet I know you exist, ...