Your life is gone,
 It ebbs away,
 And yet you stay behind.

 Your mind to mine,
 the contact points,
 Aside my face to find.

 And when you die,
 My mind awake,
 Alone I shall not be.

 Evermore,
 It brings me pain,
 Of your thoughts here with me.

 I know not which are yours,
 Dear friend,
 And I know not which are mine.

 Memory and voices follow me,
 And yet I cannot rest,
 I walk a knife-blade line.

 Would that we could be spilt asunder,
 But no human knows the way,
 I see your freedom in my head.

 You look with me,
 The peak is high,
 The mountain's rocks are red.

 Here- you whisper to my psyche,
 Here- I am not dead,
 Here- among the voice of ages,
 Here- we can find rest.

Back to Vulcan (I wish)