I wish the time would come
When we could talk past midnight
and you would say things about you
as I would say things about me.
We’ll have a speck of discussion
about the cosmos and the fates,
about dreams, and portions of complexity
unfazed by the words and ignorance
that fall on the mouths of people under daylight.
We'll talk about questions:
of hows and whys,
and we'll invite the dust of the moon
to settle down on our pupils.
As we wait, we’ll talk about glimpses of the unknown,
of hints of oblivion, and the foreboding present
until my mouth slips on its tongue
and I'd start to say things about you,
and maybe you’d say things about me.
And as night and morning starts to dance,
we could say things about us.