Where does thought go?
\nWhere are the traces of ourselves?
\nFootprints left.
\nLips warm from kissing.
\nBut where are we
\nwhen the door closes?
\nWhen the window is shut?
\nAnd there is nothing left
\nto see us with.<\/p>\n
Does the world throw its flour
\nthrough our unsubstantial bodies,
\nand we see the shape of us?
\nMotes of dust.
\nMidges flying in the light.
\nWhat becomes of your beautiful hair
\nthat falls like a sheet of silk
\nthrough the fingers of my thoughts?
\nMy heart burning up with love.<\/p>\n
But who is burned up
\nby the flame inside us?
\nOnly another thought
\nfull of its own fire.
\nTwo thoughts more real than
\nthe world.
\nWe can compose poems
\nor blow the place up,
\nbut ourselves?<\/p>\n
Where are we?
\nInside a soul?
\nInside a miracle?
\nInside a dream?
\nI don\u2019t know,
\nexcept you are my love,
\nwith a name.
\nAnd names are what we are,
\noutside the pages of the world,
\nthat disappears in our reflection.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Where does thought go? Where are the traces of ourselves? Footprints left. Lips warm from kissing. But where are we when the door closes? When…<\/p>\n