Sometimes I dream of you
you come to me faceless, dressed formally
sitting as a man on the cusp of birth and death
behind that ink black baby grand piano you love so much
its edges well worn
you float through the vast emptiness with no beginning or end
and yet somehow your immense hands strike notes with an
unyielding vehemence and passion, never repeating yourself.
I will know you, if I have to spend all of eternity, I will know you.