Through solitude I finally see.
Where I once simply believed
I get now that it has to be.
We are the waves that keep traveling.
Where we go and where we’ve been
is orchestred by the night,
bright before our eyes.
And it seems clear to me,
that if space and time,
simple observants such as I am,
are filled and emptied so often,
then there is a rythm,
a never ending poem,
complex and unwavering.
The day someone lays this omniscient theory,
maybe I’ll know how it happened
how i became so lonely.
— Excerpt from a book I’ll never write -68