Now that death has entered you, sooner than I think it willarrive in me, I fear to look into your eyes and see the sungrowing dimmer there. The space around my hands, unable tocontain the stars, begins to fail. Who would have thought that not the airalone but space itself would die, the planets disappearing andthe seasons smaller? Between us on a table flowers floated in
a bowl. Flowers, you said, are flowers forever, each coming backwithin the next. You gazed into the bowl and looked away, and whenyour eyes returned, I looked to see in each the image of a rosereflecting on mortality. There must be moments when we areuncertain where we are, the sun beyond our measure, being seen,after it is gone, mirage of roses passing through the sky.
