-- The Intimacy of Absence --

John Herlihy

How can it ever be,

Thru absence I found presence?

With nothing there to see,

Nothing can ever be called pretense.

An orphan who can never miss,

The parents his life never blessed.

The gain we often can win,

From a loss when our wheels spin.

The empty cup can only be filled,

It can never be made again empty.

If a glass falls, milk will be spilled,

Waste only spurns a sense of plenty.

Darkness has no desire for light

Only our fears seek a match to strike

Intimacy can be found in being alone,

A long lost presence but wind blown.

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(c) John Herlihy 13 December 2019