We dream without me and you,
gasping the fragile air
blown by two fishes’ mouths
across the glassy sea of this room.
Silent currents carry our conversation,
the one that never could have been spoken
on facades,
or along the brittle surfaces of words.
The bubbles rise—
constantly, endlessly—
from unspoken thought,
each a sphere of clarity and breath,
each a small universe
fading into unknown awareness.
Everything we know
is nothing but these tiny worlds,
suspended, trembling,
vanishing into the water
of cognition we cannot hold.
Here, in this aquarium,
we are everywhere and nowhere,
our presence measured
in the fleeting arcs of bubbles,
our being
seen only in the spaces
between what is said
and what is known.
