All my love, lay on a canvas,like a piece of modern art.Visible to all, but you.Understood by few; but you.All my voices, lay on paper,like a fiction, unread by you.I exist as silent words,You, like a humming melody.Both together, a song.Let fate sing it aloud,perhaps melt the barriers,the strangeness in being strangers.You know it, I …
Perspectives on ideas and the wild