If I could only catch sight of you—
the true you.
The flavor of your soul.
The heat of your mind.
The nuances of your time in this life.

And yet what lies in front of me
is a wall.
Made up of sand
turned glass—turned fast
like a spinning top.

With a blur
it warps along a tightrope.
I cannot make out any details.
I cannot produce any questions or concerns.
There isn't anything to describe it,
but only a wall…
and the image of nothing at all.

I beg you, please—
allow me to connect with something tangible.
Something that defines a person,
or a concrete concern.

Lend me a tear of paper.
Ripped from your heart.
Upon it lies your signature,
which I document deeply as art.
It is momentous in my mind.

I promise to keep it safe
and know it forever.

© SteelBlue