Our Worlds, Our Words

Our worlds, our own citadels,
Our own creations, our own
Space. Like a cobweb of fantasy,
Like a childish dream, we weave
Our ideas around our ideals. The
Two parallel lines have never met,
And so have our worlds been apart.
The lines meet in an illusion, but
Never in a confluence of stability,
Of a coming together in harmony.
When souls converse, words lose.
Rejoice at this rare moment, for the
Purpose of our lives is enabled,
For being in commune with our
Senses, a higher level of talk,
Higher than our shallow causal
Sniveling. The senses expressed
Through themselves, in unrestrained
Abandon of the idea of rational
Ideas, convey more than a word.
Free to wander, free to find,
Free to express, free to touch.