Written by: Zhian Mostofi

Many eyes saw me pass, as I rode by
My reasons have fallen, like a brick house with nobody inside
Myself, I am nothing, a mere echoing of You
Yet I insist tis’ our first meeting and that you’ve left me clue

So again we return to this
This Being that incessantly persists
Where no words reach, yet all language subsists
As a hand, silent as the wind gently kissing passed leaves
She journeys through our myst
Convening the plenum as we breath

At night she rests in her natural state,
Yet we upon this rock have gone amiss
Saturated, once again within her tears, 
Our purpose her bliss
And life sings its song across the cosmic ocean
For I to witness
Oh if the air could speak...