I have a sharp vision.
I have a sharp vision of you and me.
I have a sharp vision of you and me that will never be.
The visions that I see of you, and I are contented and carefree.
But do not tell anyone; and do not say a word.
Because the visions that I see of you and me will never be.
Call it dreaming. Call it a hope in waiting.
Call it a well of water in a far-off place that I will never drink.
I whisper softly of it lest you hear it, lest you be far away and lest you be near.
My vision of you and I are safe with me.
As safe with me as an aspiration that will never be.
As sheltered with me as a thought without meaning.
As isolated to me as a day without night.
As inaccessible for me as a fantasy that has no substance.
As hollow to my grasp as a touch without form.
I have a vision of you, and my vision is true to me.
It takes away my loneliness and it makes my loneliness more consuming and complete.
Yet, my vision of you and me, that will never be.
Brings fruitfulness to meaninglessness and hope to a void.
The vacancy of abandon becomes saturated with the abundance of your presence.
My vision of you is so true to me.
I have a sharp vision.
A sharp vision of you speaking to me.
Speaking to me with soft kind words that waters the barren and makes the vacant fertile.
Speaking to me in thoughts and words that will never be.
I have a vision of you that has only one life force.
And that life force is housed inside the form of the animated dead.
Keep this to yourself. Hide it in an out-of-the-way place.
For my vision of you is true and is only for and about you.
As sharp as my desire for you and as clear as my knowledge that it will never be.
