Hear the music but not the words,
dancing movement, but no one present.
Poem, but without a reader.
Time, but without the numbers.
How many mysteries can you cope with?
The friend who died but no longer could speak,
the other friend who in his final bed
described a circle with his hands,
by which he meant travelling. That was
a farewell, and I understood it, I was
still to travel on further, circles around the world
until I could be with him again,
or he with me, a futile promise.
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