If someday I look out my window

To find you were gone, not even a petal,

Then I know everything else must go.

The last living thing in this desert would be 

And then even I would cease to exist, doubting

It could only be me left.

If someday I were to look out my window

To find you were dead,

Then I would know life must be a reflection,

A mere void.

For if I am the only one,

Then I too am only a dream.

How queer knowing is,

For if I grow and eat and drink and breath,

And if you grow and eat and drink and breath,

Then life must exist,

And it cannot simply be a haze.