Let the darkness swallow us—you and me.
Then, neither would I see you nor would you see me.
But, we know, we exist there in the opposite poles of the same room.
You would smell my aroma mixed with the wind blowing from the window.
Similarly, I would smell your odor engulfed within the air rushing through the door.
There is a war, between the smells, in the other corners of the room.
I know you wouldn’t see it, and you too know that I couldn’t see it.
But we would hear the roars and killings in the battle.
I heard a whisper, in the first darkness of a day that same blood ran through our vein.
And, even at the last darkness, I began to chant—yes, it must be true.
Because, if it wasn’t, then we would be at the same corner not the opposite one.
We talk, silently, many times;
And, we talk with the help of words, many times.
Someday, I would like to know—how the world looks like through the door.
And, you too, someday would like to know how the universe looks like through the window.
But, the words then won’t be sufficient for us to convey the facts that we saw.
And, we will need our own words.
Maybe the memories then won’t be that powerful to let the vision play.
So, we should sneak again into the darkness and search inside it.