Sometimes we may feel lonely
But we are always alone
You begin to speak
But I hold a gentle finger to your lips
And cross your palm with silence.
How can we begin to say
All that we feel
When our mouths are tied up with emotion?
The quiet of the night
Will always speak louder than words;
Though sometimes you do not believe
In the gentleness that it imparts.
You don't want to hurt me
Yet you turn and run away.
Away from the night
And the touch of my mute hands.
I reach out
But you are never there –
An ethereal spirit
Wandering beyond a lost horizon.
I cannot find you
And so I must wait,
Hoping,
That one day you might return
What use are words
When such distance separates us?
They can but delay
The discovery of a deeper understanding.
The paths we make
Can never be straight
And no one
Can ever follow us –
No one can see
This way of our own making;
Made deaf by feelings
Created for themselves.
What use are words
When we are so alone?