Where I am, a storm is brewing;
where you are, is rain too falling?
Is it possible to derive all sustenance
from distant words so luminescent?
Here, we exist in a clandestine world
created by imagination as magic unfurls.
Wherever you go, let me go too;
shall we immerse in this folie à deux?
Somewhere near, somewhere far,
my heart is lost amid twinkling stars.
It must be fiction, or fate on a whim?
But never let it end, were it a dream.
– Agnes Chew