but indifferently, your image stays my mind:
like a passive log drifting along
and irrevocably flow -- rivers I'd never known;
Your image glitters in the clear beams
of the crescent moon. Its music is silence,
and I recollect it in the chilling hours of dawn
when hope and life are born of a dream shared....
Were you part of me, or I
part of that solitary road you have walked
listening to yourself, reminiscing--
Part of a secret lived?
when you return, your vision changed
and this indifferent gaze flushed in the twilight
of a beginning that leaves nothing back
of all we have talked and lived and hoped for?
IT IS ALL IN YOUR IMAGE.