Re: “Dear Lord, Who art thou?”

[청라]

It is an old house in Bom Retiro, San Paulo, Brazil.

And it is me there spending entire evening feebly leaning against a table, and hardly placing my languid body onto bed.

The blueish dawn is hovering over the insomniac soul.

“Dear Lord, Who art thou?”

With the whispering, tomorrow is already here in silence.

It’s pain, I think.

***

That very day suddenly recurred to me this morning.

The blueish dawn, the silence, and the pain. It was ‘Him’.

‘He’ was there sitting across the old wooden table, and being next to me over the squeaking bedside.

It was ‘Him’, I figured out.

Every single moment was full of ‘Him’, I figured out.

Twenty years have passed from the day of Brazil, and I am a bit older now.

I, finally, would be able to let ‘Him’ go.