Is there a word — is there a face I know not of
that could perhaps explain?

No. No. All lies. I never needed an explanation.
I wanted the music. Craved it badly.
I treaded upon the echoes.
I found voicelessness and pursued it as well.

The thought is the lie, the sentiment recreates
the beginning.

I am here.
My mind is not doing the trick anymore.
I am here.

There goes your explanation.
It comes with a presence.
It is honest.
It sings.