I would ransom all the years from now till my passing
to meet you again.

Your sharp light, your innovation.

You are my guide in this fog of belief, this haze of knowledge.

I call on you from afar, my friend of so many years,
my solitude.

I need to conjure you from these lifeless fingers,
I need you to rest in the muck
of my bosom, hope dropping like a leaky faucet,
tapping incessantly like only hope can,
offering time, a rhythm, a beat
a pulse.

My pace quickens at the thought of you, my heart dances like the
pinings of a stroke, the calm before the tempest.

I know I am alive.