From another reality

I try to reach out but I realize, like darkness separated from darkness, like walls with no windows, that you can’t see my pain or hear my thoughts. We lie on a green lawn, and when I reach out to you, it seems I’m touching only grass. When I look into your eyes, I can’t see beyond your irises. Your eyes are only surfaces that reflect surfaces. I believe, in you, there’s a universe. As in any human, as in me, there’s an emptiness in which light but no sound can propagate, and it seems as though there are only tiny pricks of light.