If there’s something out there, I can’t see it. It’s too far and too faint and too fuzzy. Too covered with confusion and clouded with contradictions. Too distant to make out the signs. The vision is out of sight.
If there’s something out there, I can’t touch it. There’s no threads or treads or textures. No crooked corners or sharp edges. Not enough surface area. Nothing to hold on to.
If there’s something out there, I can’t hear it. The sounds are too soft and subtle and silent. The sentences don’t speak my language. The answers don’t say my name. The whispers are quiet pleas.
If there’s something out there, I can’t taste it. My tongue is torn and tangled and twisted. My mouth is sealed with stolen secrets. My lips are sore with swollen goodbyes. Nothing to sink my teeth in.
If there’s something out there. I can’t smell it. The scent is dazed and doused and disguised. The aroma is buried in broken lies. The odor drifts from nothing to nowhere to nearby. The whiff is lost in the wind.
If there’s something out there, I can’t prove it. My senses are senseless and my words are much too small. It’s nothing I can describe…
But I can feel it.
Buried beneath the layers of my heart. Burning behind the prayers of my mind. Speaking from the depths of my soul.
There’s something out there.
I feel it.
And I’ll keep searching because I believe.