How do we fix this? Your eyes, your eyes. How do we heal you? Blank yet alive. I know your pain. You know I thrive. Solace is too slow to arrive. I’d like to ask you what would be your heaven, your vision of ideal existence? If you had all power, could you make a life like you’d want a perfect life to be? I will not ask you the miracle question afraid that you won’t have an answer. I cannot ask you the miracle question afraid that you can’t have an answer.