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My joy is always wandering, sent by your quiet steps, born in interstellar silence, of your thoughts atomic and daring. I embrace it with my palms but it hurts, again your lack of feeling is overwhelming, from past truths bitter, but I have survived anyway. And you send tenderness and longing, my heart with indignation pierce, the deaf eyepie echoes in me of the time, and you write it down. And again we play two of love - you are silent, and I tell you, on our way, imaginatively crude, the birds smile show our dreams whisper in a warm voice, our countless wounds from struggles and somewhere in the midnight light hour, rivers are drunk in the purple traces.