When the winds blow north

Snow falls from the East

We’ve never chosen the right direction

Or seem to care where we end up.

When we grasp at straws

Pointedly in the direction of our souls

Licking the rims of oceans

Yet finding no sand.

When I reach for you

There is deafening silence

Everything comes to a halt

Nothing to be heard

Or seen.

When I whisper

“I wish you were real”

I feel this sense within me

That nothing aligns more perfectly

Than the truth of a discovery

Yet to be made.

Do we even make sense?

Or are we simply two lonely people

That use time

Like a weapon

And will end up dead

Before the day comes

That we look upon one another.