Each's Other.

Sometimes it gets built up. Sometimes it goes for months and months. Sometimes it is something as simple as a word. Other times it comes in something read. Everything lost gathers in the silence. But then its never really lost at all. It is a puddle, an ocean. It is emotion, a hurricane. It stirs and rises. If I can't tell you, I might draw a picture. If I can't speak, I might sing. In all the distance between us lies what is within us.