No. 16

Hollow words have given flight to the winds of our distance.

They thrust onward the solemn heights of a kite with strings intertwined.

Where are the words of those whose lives collided as galaxies up high?

Are they suspended in time, like stars affixed to the night?

Are they gone, or have they remained?

Bridle lives, strung across by hands so high.

the heartfelt pain, of an unknown sky.