What's the immaterial substancethat envelopes two,
that one percieves as hunger and the other as food.
I wake in tangeled covers,to a sash of snow,
you dream in a cartoon garden,I could never know.
Innocent imitation of how it would be
if once the music entered, you did not retreat
in my imagination,
you are cast in gold
your image a compensation for me to hold.
Parallel lines, move so fast,
toward the same point,infinity is as near as it is far