It is a gift that I have inside of me.
A heart of flesh and warm blood in my veins,
The images my eyes bring to my consciousness
And the courage of my soul to see them for what they are.
In pain and in tears sometimes my abilities offer me,
Yet in between all these sensations there still lies hope.
I must believe that hope exists.
I have a conviction that tomorrow the sun will rise
And with day’s end the moon will greet me.
I believe that when I look up at the dark sky
Shimmering stars will greet me with their smiles.
When in the desert with only sand and stone,
I believe my memories of you will never fade.
It is a gift that lives within me
That really belongs to another heart.
Yet I don’t possess the heart to put it in its rightly place,
Stars shine more brightly when viewed through a window.
In this house there are many glass panes.
They open our hearts to the past and to what may be;
They draw by lines and dots upon the celestial sky;
They tell stories of feats we may not always fulfill.
Yet they are faithful in a way that humans aren’t.
There are always gaps and holes in their stories;
There are always misplaced brushstrokes in their murals...
We can’t rely on murals to explain our lives,
We can’t rely on close ones to tell the truth; always,
Affection has her own course and her own ways.
But that is the reason we listen to her so,
It is not to record the bare truth of things.
It is to remember the feeling of our desire.