You are a mystery,
And your face seems to study me,
Study everything, as you thirst to see clearly.
You look about. . . listen,
And are just quiet,
And just ponder.
And I wonder what you’re wondering.
And a thousand memories.
How once we wrote together;
Time filled our hands,
And we wanted to lay it out flat.
The world couldn’t wait.
There was adventure,
But you were always listening.
Your eyes would glisten.
In the quiet, I wonder what you heard.
I ask you if you remember those things,
But usually your memory is different from mine.
Do you remember philosophy?
Your memory is the mystery you hold.
You still seek out adventure with those eyes,
But sometimes I wonder if it’ll be yourself you’ll find.
And if I search hard enough,
Crack the code,
Could I know a deeper you,
With stories untold?
A you I didn’t even recognize before?
If you scale the mountains,
Try to capture them in flash;
If you write words into stories;
If you give a look I don’t yet understand;
There is something new there, created.
You make a mark.
There is something different, changed.
And the world feels less strange and dark.
There is healing.
You know with your wrinkled eyes.
When you grow old,
You will still know.
You’ll be the same you,
So subtly changed
And yet so different.
I want to know you at fifty.
I want to know you even when you’re dying and shriveled,
With the same light hair you’ve always had.
With the same kind eyes. . .
And the wisdom that has grown with time.
I want to know you.
I wish I could be there every moment,
To never lose you, brother,
Because I know that you can show me things I could never see without you,
And yet time seldom gives us what we ask for.
I am blessed to have you in this season.
In this now.
And I’ll take you in my heart whether we grow old together or apart.