You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...


-Walt Whitman


9.1.13

that moment when we danced in silence


AND THEN WE DANCED, more like swayed. Left and right we went, in a rhythm only us knew. No words dared to escape our lips, perhaps out of fear for their true meaning to diminish the moment they decide to take the form of sounds. And so, we continued to sway, minds blank, hearts full.

And then I saw it. In between beats and breaths drawn, frozen by the creeping time passing silently underneath us, lapping on our feet buried in the sand and water. It took the shape of your eyes, that shape I knew so well, the shape I trace with my finger on the sheets when I lie in bed, or in the air, unconsciously, like how a man forgets to breathe, but still does so. You blinked, and my heart stopped, only to beat again.