If we sat across from each other
inside a four-minute silence,
would it be too long,
or not long enough?

Would the chemical surge
force the masks to fall away?
And if we stood in pure naked presence,
would it feel like a homecoming?

Is the sudden surge of raw oxygen enough,
or should you taste your inspiration?

I want your fire in my orbit
without consuming my air.

I am ready to fill the physical void
between us.
Shape it with words,
adorn it with colors,
turn nothingness into a masterpiece.

But are you curious enough
to let our hands translate the weight,
or are we destined
to remain unstruck?