This is a poem about a mystery of love that may or may not be.
|To whom I may be calling to, to whom may be there, I come with fantastic tidings to share! To whom sees me invisible, to whom I may be writing to, the world we live in is indeed blue, but I know that you, whomever you may be, perhaps a lost mystery, is there with love and tender care. Though you can’t hear the words I share, that you may never be there truly waiting, I write this love poem through the polluted air that is dangling.
Lost and forbidden we appear to be, maybe separated by a vast sea of what we are forced to live in. Driven by the heavens, the curse may lift but yet will it always drift! Drifting and dangling, it creates a space between me and whoever you appear to be. May we meet, may we even greet, it would certainly be a treat but the dividing sea must be too strong for us to get along. So to whoever you may be, try to listen to these words I degree. I know you cannot hear me, but these are the dearest of my words.
I try to speak, but I seem to be weak. Not from my own strength, but from the others! The others of the sea that separate you and me! Though I try to be what I should, it cannot happen. Our greeting must be forbidden by the universe. But, of course, I still write this love poem to whom I may be calling to, to whom may be there, to the one that I will be with until the end of time. But with the vast sea’s crime, we may never see one another. If so, I must say goodbye, to a mystery lost in the sea. It may never be.