My words echo into the abyss,
Frail and yet to be heard.
My mind begs and screams
for the knowledge I have yet to learn.

Time breaks and fractures my heart
while space attempts to sooth it with a lullaby.
My skin burns with the heat of a million suns
that blink at me from the above the sky.

My thoughts race faster
than the protons of daylight.
Yet I can't tear my eyes away
from the vast emptiness of the night.

A Wonderer, and
A word–weaver,
Holding few experiences
Volume with substances
Crafting those threads
Self-defeating, self-preserving

All good old memories,
Rescued by an ink
Release ownself,
Enable to rip the darkness,
Image and its’ reflections
Eclipse of reality,
A dream within a dream
Wish to acknowledge
A travelling soul.