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.