Reside in indecision
A lost soul does not know it is lost.
It finds itself in a sort of comfort of companionship,
from where it can judge
when it feels
bottled silence which fills up the capped bottle.
No One drinks
and no one feels thirsty to hear words
which never suffer the symphony of sound.
Thus it takes two to know loneliness
at a distance found in the comfort of companionship.
Loneliness leaves like a waking dream.
Souls never know how lost they are,
until someone finds them become who they are and that someone is left to wonder...
how they never know
how they become
who they come to be
they come by.
Peripheral and labyrinthine they pass on with silent wishes stilled in their silent bosom,
wishes which never awaken from their deepest slumber.
Maybe the very voice of words,
wake them up from the everlasting slumber
only for a while
to greet with
the agony of conceit.
lost souls which are happy to be lost
and which judge loneliness
at a perpetual distance
never are lost
to each other
and the somone
who finds them.
Until they truly happen to become