No libretto, words nor holy mass Motionless, timeless as an ice-covered lake Functions faded, died, he is cremated As clouds evaporate into the blue heaven So his dust particles now dance in the sun’s rays I loved him dearly, nurtured by the years A fabulous, fond, forlorn friend His patience, listening, his jokes Like glued soles, so we bonded Sustained and enriched by every encounter Yet his remains are scattered somewhere Ever restless, moving with the whistling wind While I am visited often by his vision I can almost hear his rambling voice A living, loving, liberated ghost teasing my mind Yet he lives on within each of his friends “He is now dust,” you say “Yes, dust from which all mankind is shaped!”