Without an image, without a situated comparsion I will invite the notions of words before image. To ask of silence for a needle to drop upon a record's history of grooves transcended through time. An echo appears at the end; for nights like this I can hear the ocean, far from my touch but close to my ear as my memory is clearer than my vision. Inside my chest lies not a heart but a nothingness to meaning, a void of words or conceptions, like a life seen by eyes of another holder, we only see what we want. It is in the truest light I say, without contraptions, without craft of words, in nakedness, of my soul. And what is said, for your memory to imprint upon mine, as share a moment, as I shed my skin for truth, and I am in your hands, as I seek warmth again with a cold world just beyond your reach. I ask of nothing and receive everything with surprise. And though all my rationale speaks to me with many questions I call silence, for what could be said of fresh discovery? It is upon your grip I find myself, as if I had known of this existence but have hidden it until it's location had been forgotten for many years. Upon you is all I value in myself, and for your hands to grip, for your eyes to pierce, for your soul to take part, as a fold, as a peel, as everything falls from all around, and we see the truth for what it has always been. Upon you, I have made a tunnel, and if you look deep inside you will see a light that is the brightest you have seen, this is how I address you, as my words shed double, triple meaning, to infinite, before us, and after, may I speak as though I was born to say, I hold nothing back with you. My everything.