Prancing in A Tunnel

A line of this heart remembers
What’s not even in memories.
Flowing clean river hidden in the sky—
The other line of this heart remembers
Only what’s imprinted through relations.
Murky pool standing around the earth—

Don’t have the right to be missed
With these limited memories.
This sky is hidden by the cloud—
Don’t have the right to be remembered
With absence of relations.
This earth is full of locked doors.

Can only miss what’s not imprinted.
Can only remember what’s hidden.
Still beautiful
Still amazing
Yet hidden
Yet secretive
Circled around between hearts
That read what’s not inky written.

There’s an end
To a dream.
It’s when coming true
Or coming dead.
And that’s the light at the end of a tunnel
Of light
Of wide spectrum
In which we’re prancing.

Choose your colour.

you don’t remember me, I do; you don’t see me, I do; you don’t hear me, I do; you don’t smell me, I do; you don’t taste me, I do; you don’t touch me, I do — when you close the door, I stay yet I’m blocked from you 💗