He became infant prescience,
He had to go so far ahead of me,
A strange and whispering comfort that brings,
One who was one with me in our growing,
Knew (or still knows) the bird that never sings.

Many times I had wondered, when in my loneliness,
If it could be that he still exists somewhere,
Only a question without perpendicular relief,
But perhaps it is possible that he still laughs,
Because he still resides in my question and belief.

I feel my closing drawing closer,
I feel it will be soon that I could meet him in my dreams,
So separate for so long, and our reunion means ceasing,
Our hearts once played their percussion together, and when mine stops we can meet in new grieving.