In all of space and time,
a man sits
by a pool of water
thinking.
How if he threw a stone,
into the pool
it would create ripples,
but the ripples would fade.
He thinks about himself,
how he could be the stone,
a minor consequence of life,
meaning something to few,
but then those few fade,
like everything.
As he sits,
the blue of the water,
and the ripples on the surface,
reflects the blue of his eyes,
and the blue of the tear,
clinging to his cheek
and the blue inside,
from his great loss,
of a great friend.
