I run my fingers across
the crisp paper,
reading the indelible ink
of your handwriting.
I hold these old letters close,
smelling the scent
of you on them.
As though you wrote them
still rings true,
full of passion and strength
your soul shines through.
It dances on these pages,
to the music of your words
you appear before me,
magical immortal spirit,
angel of life and love,
you speak to me,
you sing to me.
Yet the mystery remains.
I analyze every word for clues
like a detective searching for the answer
to the crime of separation.
I hunt through these papers
looking for the killer of love.
I examine every sentence
for the solution to this puzzle;
these are the only pieces of evidence
to solve your disappearance.
I read your remembrances
about our trip to Kailua Beach,
how you rode on my shoulders amongst the waves.
You laughed, dizzy with happiness.
Our long ago love, as strong as a tidal wave,
that eventually subsided into a dead calm,
quiet and complacent... doesn't it seem
against nature, against some universal law,
that such a powerful force could fade away?
When you wrote about Old Man Ocean,
how you spoke with him and he solved
your problems, how he affirmed your love
for me: what would he say now?
Now you, Australian,
surrounded by his other face,
might turn to him and ask him again...
would he still approve?
would he still point you in the right direction?
or doesn't he listen any more?
Nineteen years has passed, and
So much happened since you wrote these words,
the world has gotten more dangerous...
We can never know,
never know when the end
will come, when suddenly our world
will come crashing down on us,
thus I reach out to you
across time and space,
to once more greet you
as in yesteryear.
You still speak to me —
your wisdom of someone so young —
How could I ever have been deaf to your song,
blind to the beauty of your soul?
You, immortal, will live forever.
Because you held back nothing.
Because you loved once
with all your heart.