Can you hear me?
I miss being in love. I miss having someone to hold, to desire, to laugh and play with.
I miss having a love to leave the rest of the world out of.
I know too well the burden of being loved and unable to love in return, and have no-one to blame but myself for it.
The days fill with tales of others in love, pretty faces without a spark of strength behind them passing below my windowsill.
Can you change your orbit? Can you switch suns, is there no escape policy for zodiac signs?
For I would, if I could.
Change my illness to disease of self. What care I of the great beyond? Let the other ships take care of themselves.
Then I look in the mirror, and turn quietly back to watching the ocean.
Did you know that in the dark, when the moon will not shine and the clouds jealously shade the stars from view, when the night is no longer itself but an ominous extension of oblivion, that there is no distinguishing between what is and what is not?
Between the Existent and the Uncreated there is not so great a gulf. It is a line, and that is all.
It is everything.
Perhaps tonight I will spot a passing light. Perhaps it will be bright, and perhaps the ship will be battered and a little dented too.
But we might travel together. And we might agree that one day we shall fly up, through the doorway of a star in its wall of night sky, to see the other Side.
In the meantime, I am building wings and anti-gravitational devices on my ark.
Turn your light up a little higher, Jack, 'cause mine's high and it's burning.
I'm waiting. I don't always see, but I'll keep watching.
I miss having a love to leave the rest of the world out of.
I know too well the burden of being loved and unable to love in return, and have no-one to blame but myself for it.
The days fill with tales of others in love, pretty faces without a spark of strength behind them passing below my windowsill.
Can you change your orbit? Can you switch suns, is there no escape policy for zodiac signs?
For I would, if I could.
Change my illness to disease of self. What care I of the great beyond? Let the other ships take care of themselves.
Then I look in the mirror, and turn quietly back to watching the ocean.
Did you know that in the dark, when the moon will not shine and the clouds jealously shade the stars from view, when the night is no longer itself but an ominous extension of oblivion, that there is no distinguishing between what is and what is not?
Between the Existent and the Uncreated there is not so great a gulf. It is a line, and that is all.
It is everything.
Perhaps tonight I will spot a passing light. Perhaps it will be bright, and perhaps the ship will be battered and a little dented too.
But we might travel together. And we might agree that one day we shall fly up, through the doorway of a star in its wall of night sky, to see the other Side.
In the meantime, I am building wings and anti-gravitational devices on my ark.
Turn your light up a little higher, Jack, 'cause mine's high and it's burning.
I'm waiting. I don't always see, but I'll keep watching.