The one we lost never once spoke,
yet his presence could not be mistaken
No shape will ever again be his.
He marched through the world
with a singularity of purpose
unknown to the human form.
Among us, he flashed
bright and dark, that we might remember
the willingness to serve,
the ease with which silence can be met.
Did you happen to see him once
or twice, with me, out walking?
And with the gladness
in his gait, did your heart
rise, too, like the soft
tips of his ears?
And did you wonder how you ever wanted
such complicated things?