dreaming by my self

how do we dream
through our days
carried by wings?
i cannot create alone

all which needs two
to sail and to touch,
to miss and to find,
to feel and to trust,

to go and to come,
to invite, to welcome,
to arrive in the
heart of the other.

here we are, floating
in space fleeing us
and clocks ticking
in this place without time

in this silence
in which we do not
dare to whisper
as words may kill

between the grinding
millstones and fate,
in the face of absence
and speechless from

inside when we
cannot be close,
cannot transmit presence
through laughing

and crying and sleep
and movement and skin,
when we must feel the core
without the softness

flowing in light
and breath and whisper,
when i must stay in shadow
and cannot emerge

i will rise on the other
side of sunsets, and you may
in your own good time.
until then: we will not speak

as listening can hurt,
and we will drop lines
and smiles like planes
flying without landing.

all is transformation
and a journey through
gates of  happiness,
of joy and of pain,

and when i will die
all will be good,
another travel,
other gates, another quest.