Between the breaks in our breath,
We take in,
The sum of all our conceived universes,
Inhaling all we can,
Love, lust, desires and prejudices,
We stretch on and on, forever;
the fields in our head,
Threatening to break at the seams,
We hold on,
To hope, to dreams,
Slowly realizing,
We were born to write,
And we’re dying to tell.