She is my friend; she was my friend. She soon will cease to be. Her life is ebbing fast, and tense -- what tense am I to use?
Dissolving; she dissolves, and every breath could be her last. She's blurring at the edges; the threshold sings her name. Her ancestors await.
My friend, my friend, dissolving. Parting ways with what we know exists. My words to you: a kiss you will not read, you who loved to read. The volume of your life is soon to close. A breath, your last, will sift the final page to rest.
You waver at the edge ... We breathe with you, we carry you, until you are no more.
Dissolver of sugar, dissolve me,
if this is the time.
Do it gently, with a touch of a hand, or a look.
Art: Louis Janmot