The vessel of our thought, full with voice,
The absence of all that moves,
A sign of doubt,
A stitch in time too still to touch, too slippery to climb.
The zero of my world,
The start and end of all I know or knew,
With thought's unknown yet certain guest,
With love, the open ended view.
It is as if all sound upon this earth has paused in sadness for my loss,
I see no rush of wind nor rage of storm,
I sense no dream or better place,
I miss you as a robin would their song,
I miss your smile upon my day that stretches far, forlorn and long.