We sit together, face to face
Alone in quite, empty space
Alone, unconscious, still I dread,
Alone these thoughts jump in this head.
If I could trace around these eyes
those formless shapes, of which, comprise
the depth our memories echo through,
I would not feel alone with you.
And, somewhere, am I still here.
And knowing not if far or near,
And knowing not who moves this hand,
Not knowing if I understand.
A world lies behind the glass,
reflected, filtered through this mask.
And, thus, I often fail see,
what’s truly real. Image or me?