Endless void

to question is to live twice, to know today, to know tomorrow. was the presence was there? or am I chasing the vain for the truth? I reaches in silence, not for the letters you speak. yet you drift like smoke through my hands, and words become hollow echoes that fail to anchor your essence, to the shores of my waiting. And so instead, I linger in the endless void, chasing a touch that cannot be written.