It begins with the touch, love, of fingers.
Such tiny things! they are unworthy of your determination, your eyes
Therein you have held onto something, timeworn
and distant
you clasp your fingers to mine and cry,
To the dream! Will be but a simple crossing, love
Between continents, across the wide wide sea
Where we will make our way between giants and fathomless depths
Just you and I, love, just you and I
I’d awakened though, in the sea of your drifting wake
And no fingers could hold me up

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