To a stranger!

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking.

I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured, together.

I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone, I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

It felt weird somehow, to sit there and just observe the chaos that was going on around us. Not interfering, not participating while you swirled around in your spectacularly way, seeing things, solving things with just a fleeting look of those ever seeing eyes of yours. Times ago I had been there with you, right by your side, a never wavering presence that you had come to rely upon, even without you ever admitting it. It was okay, it had always been okay, just for you to know I was there and you for I.

I knew I would never get any appreciation out of you, so the first time you thanked me I was stunned, stunned that in a twisted way over the course of a few days I had grown so attached, so loyal. Like from the beginning it had already been too late to turn back.

That first time we met it was hard not to notice you, when I stepped in that room in St Barts my eyes was immediately drawn to you, the whole room was drawn to you, light and darkness danced around like the mist in mornings come, a silent force to be reckoned with.

You had taken one glance at me and knew it all, every little secret I had been trying to hide from the world, from you. I had nothing left to do than to be impressed, what else could I had done with you so clearly seeking the approval that none had bothered to give you, that you hadn't let anyone give. None but me.

The rest of our lives had gone by in a blur, never the same, never to rest. It had been an amazing journey that like every other had an end. Unfortunately it came sooner for me than for you.

But I have learned to be content, learned to watch over you in silence, to be alone, to wait.

You always said you never had the time for patience, that if you stopped everything would slow down and become dull. I started to see your point, it was dull; but if dullness was what I had to endure I would surely do it, for you.

I bet that when we were to be reborn, you would not know me. Not know the fleeting looks of longing I would cast your way when we passed each other in the streets. Maybe you would miss me, miss something you would not know, but you still knew that something wasn't right. I would look upon you and smile and you would just pass me by, continue on your crazy adventures that you were set to do. But maybe… Maybe I could hope? Hope that the next time our eyes met, just like so many years ago, you would just know, know that it was me you were missing all this time. Maybe…

"John?"