For Martin

[vyvyanx]

The dead lie deep, they do not stir,
No debt of sleep will they incur;
They need not toil, nor weep, nor rise
To rub the dreams from weary eyes;
No fear of change disturbs that place
Where they are one with empty space,
Nor must they cling to hope's harsh breath,
Nor suffer fear of meeting death.

I wrote this privately in July, around the time I last heard from Martin (telling me he was fine). It seems more appropriate now, alas.