For most of us life passes like a dream,

Revealing only what is on our minds.

Inside the prison of the self we see

Each object as a shadow on our wall.

Nothingness awaits, as sure as night.

Did I not have you, dear friend, I might,

Shadow on a shade, not be at all.

How much we need a word beyond our sea:

In love and laughter, thoughts of different kinds,

Perhaps, with luck, unraveling a seam.