Undreamed

There the Other was—
One the heart was sealed away for,
placed in a bottle,
cast out to sea.
Image held perfect resemblance,
while the body laid there
staring at the mask.

The room—identical, yet entirely not.
Something was unfamiliar.
Or maybe just
too familiar.

Was it only one who could see?
Or was the audience watching
this particular silent film—
The Magnificent Skin of Marble.

There the Other was.
Just there.
Just this.
Just what was once us.
And something,
merely peculiar.

The Other sat
at the edge of the bed,
entirely
singular.
Spoke—
And yet,
no sound could stay.

Suddenly,
the Other turned three—
rambunctious three.
Stood a size
of a myth.
Twisted creature on the floor,
unrehearsed,
To set lightning on fire
was never something
it needed
to earn.

Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause.
Still. Still. Still. Still.
Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare.
Far. Far. Far away.

Movement was possible.
A voice existed—
but nothing surfaced.
Frozen,
as if touched
by the absence
of reaching.
Inches away,
galaxies apart.

It didn’t stop.
See—
but no gaze.
Coating vanished.
Bones removed.

Suddenly,
the Other was ill.
So ill,
it couldn’t be
undone.

It wasn’t
the love once believed in.
But something different.
Love
from seven dimensions.
Unfixed.
Uncontained.

Perhaps the self
was unraveling.
Perhaps love
was still given
through a sickness
that mistook
pain for presence.

It was both—
a battle,
and a prayer.

Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause.
Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause.
Still. Still. Still. Still.
Still. Still. Still. Still.

Silenced.
No rhythm left to step into.
A different love—
one never
meant
to be named.

Beginning already ended
for the cure,
only to find
that pain—
was never just one’s
to hold.

The bubble carried—
an invisible shield.
But something darker tonight
wants to be seen.

Two colors
crushing one another.
And inside,
the serenity of love
softly fights,
like nothing
ever known.

Dreams don’t
predict the future.
The exams
reveal
the truths
long fluent
in the art of hiding.

Dreams
are simply cinema
for spirits.
Hoping, a light lingers—
that dreams
remain
bright
and unempty.

The gauge
of mind,
body,
and soul
presses its weight.

And at last—
the greatest love of all
was never
out there.

It was always
here.
Inside.
Misunderstood.
The unknown.