Talking to Death’hellip; ‘Hello darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again.’ –Simon & Garfunkel Do you see me enfolded in this darkness, Wanting to need you helplessly Calling out again and again From upon this parish — where I should not belong’hellip; Tell me If you see the sun the way I do As a red beast, darting its tongue Razing off my little voice From the whispers I drop along these edges’hellip; O! Bring me you’hellip; Take me away from this separation Where now I am drowning in dust Between the sun and earth Rippling in the foliage of Time — Becoming an abandoned metaphor: unimaginative. Rust. Would you still say it’s not time yet? Tell me when shall it be worthwhile To sleep? And have no dream. Tell me when no more day by day I have to come by and lose my way In search of you’hellip; Tell me when I shall walk among the imitations I make And be not an imitation myself Tell me when the canoe is dressed Tell me, O tell me Everything there is to say’hellip;