so many many questions a single destiny corporeal who are we? what, if anything, can you prove to be real? who first taught my heart to hear? you were my senior you were my keeper and my king you were my sister and my lover who was it, though, really, who first taught these hands to sing? my anger, alone, could feul me farther than your wanting ever could which makes these answers breed more questions always the questions what are we and what are we doing here? your kisses still printed upon the windows of my soul fogging up the glass the light shone through the questions that you never thought to ask
It has a reverence like a eulogy. I liked the comparison of friendship you made, the person was somewhat of a leader to you, but was caring and shared your thoughts.
