The ownership of our faces

We own our lives
in the sweat of our faces —
and this is our one and only torment.

In friendship,
we bestow the ownership of our faces,
and from distance, closeness is born.
In hatred,
we demand the ownership of our faces,
and from closeness, distance is born.

So walk through this world as no one,
and your ownership will wither —
but within you, the foreboding of olive branches
over unimagined horizons.