Last night, I wandered in a dream;
I wandered through a house of rooms.
I looked for you; you were not there;
I looked and looked–looked everywhere.
Some people sat in a living room.
“He isn’t here; he’s dead, you see,”
they tried to tell me. But I went on,
“But I just saw him--it’s not been long!
From room to room, I opened doors,
but they were empty, every one.
Could it be their words were true?
In the hall I screamed–”WHERE ARE YOU?”
I woke up–you still aren’t here.
The grim truth, I’ve tried to keep at bay.
And my guardian angel–where is he?
I need him near me; did he flee?
Then I saw that someone said:
“There was someone we once knew, who’s dead.
Your angel would not believe ‘twas true.
We saw him screaming, “WHERE ARE YOU?””
Who are you? My angel?
Or just another tortured soul.
We share so many wounds within–
not my guardian; you’re my twin.
Grievous losses and strange coincidences