The divide

There is an invisible glass
window in front of me,
in front of you?
I see you and you are looking at me,
perhaps my reflection.
But can you hear me,
can you feel me?
Can you see what I (would) see?

I touch your hand,
your fingertip touching
what seems to be reality.
My? No, perhaps your own,
but what is real when
what I know is not that
which you know.
What I feel is not
what you can feel.

Time

Sifting through the fingers of our destinies,
making our lives temporary realities,
ignoring our desperate attempts
to slow it down, to catch up
and freeze it in our memories.

We keep on running,
running to, running from and away,
searching for ways to slow it down
to stop us from falling
into the trap of our inevitable expiration.
But every day, every moment
brings us closer to what awaits us all.

(Although, it might not be the end...)