i come here to be here
(do you understand?)
i wake up and long to touch the world
any small poem i write or words that i mumble
these are my fingers, my hands, my spirit reaching out
any photograph i take is an effort of my body to move closer
but distance is an illusion - i do not move any closer
(nor do i wake up any further away)
only the longing is not an illusion
only the longing is real
