Crafting Lightbeams

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I was walking a long road, wandering as I am bound to do.

Some days, you know, I walk slow, thoughtful .

But there are moments that I run.

The wind about me, within me.

Does it still bear the scent of seas, of lovers and wars

and moonlight?

The question hangs in the air - then I look at you and we laugh.

For we have two paths and a fence to walk.

And yours has such a different wind,

though that fence lets us climb dreams.

A wall to talk through - we hear "us" echoed...

Why would I wish for anything more?