Your Meaning

Last night, we spoke of meaning,
The night with its usual silence,
Parades the stars in their usual places,
But a heavy air, soaked with heat
Brimmed through open windows.
We were there, you with a thought,
You... tightly pressed to my chest.

What holds this presence of us.. ?
This tenderness borne without meaning,
Orphaned under a sky with half a moon,
In some place without a name,
On a street without a sign,
We sing the silent chorus
The one obscurity alone hears..
We are its own...

And we are our own
With Fingers intwined,
and hearts that belong.
This night is ours,
This obscurity is ours,
The unnamed, unspoken, all ours.
In all the infinite absence we find ourselves.
Here we find ourselves,
Again and again, we find ourselves...