Disciple

Disciple I close my eyes to pretend you are with me my hand reaches into the empty place where you have not been still I feel you are near I have not stopped looking for you this timefull trance suspends me in an unforgiving mess of lost intention instead of following I'm sitting on a wooden bench watching time dial around the unmoving center the woman behind the glass calls me she leads me along a yellow hallway little nameplates are blank beside the doors one opens I enter two chairs a small desk picture of a waterfall on the wall behind where I sit it's the second time I've been here and the second time I'll leave without knowing why I came or where I'll go to find you