It is never enough,
this house of words and glass.
Sentences splash across walls in bright island colors.
Palm trees whisper stories of the ocean’s song.
Still, it is never enough.
Words find each other in the quiet spaces.
They join hands and become sentences
that run naked under sunlight and moonlight.
No, it is not enough.
Words are remembering self,
in days gone and moments frozen in ink.
In the end, it is never enough.

© zaji, 2016