by Jan Mikko C. Canarias

It’s not the image that we are seeing
not the face that we keep on dreaming
not the word that we speak
nor the voice that we often hear

It’s not the step that we often take
not the wind that blows our skin
not the air that we breathe
nor the feeling we often touch

It’s what we always imagine, dream, speak, and hear
always the step that  we take,
the wind that touches our skin
it’s always like that
but we never noticed.

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