I'm sorry I haven't been able to learn it from you, not even to understand it. I'm so sorry this time has not been enough for me to leave the capsule and live, just like you do. Each chord you produce is simultaneous with a heartbeat, each word agrees with a mute din that takes place within yourself; sincere, fleshy, and undisguised expressions.
I wish I could feel the way you feel, I wish I did not have my senses shut so I could love you even more. I wish so strongly I were not this blind so I could begin to love without fear. I wish I could one day perhaps recover the natural rythm of the soul, and more vehemently, I wish I could follow it deliberately, and fully conscious that this was the only thing I needed to be free.
You are collecting the flowers whose seeds you once sew.
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