It's been a while since I've heard David's voice. In the intervening years, I haven't really thought about him all that often -- being generous, it has been, maybe, three or four times? Somewhere at the back of my mind, I think I had a fear that if I set aside the time and really listened again, I'd have to conclude that...he didn't really speak to me anymore. There have been many changes in my life and mind, and it surely meant something that neither of them saw the need to call to him. It would be best, then, to keep sealed whatever pleasant memories that remained, and spare him from the cold, harsh judgement my current self seems oddly adept at.

Parts of those fear were true enough -- I no longer define the boundaries of my mind by song, or anything, really. To say that there is a deep dark where once there was feeling sounds depressive, but I don't see it that way; it's just a different way of being. I say dark, and not emptiness, because there is something hidden away there -- something I don't feel the inclination to dig out and reflect upon, but a presence nonetheless. And there are still sparks that can bring light to this crypt, even if for a moment, and bring a familiar wave of feeling. David, I'm pleased to say, is one of them.

I still remember walking on an unremarkable path, humming his words to myself, remarking at the gift I was bestowed -- being able to carry those words with me, use them as a shield, a sword, and many things more in all manner of internal battle. After many years, it is hard to say if I won or lost the war; is this silence that of peace, or imprisonment? Either way, no one writes to the colonel, and he doesn't much feel the need to call for reinforcements.

I also remember an intense feeling I had, many times during that period, where I was convinced that next to the power of a well-crafted word, all else was immaterial. Studying, and responding to, these words was then the only thing of any value or meaning. I could see that, feel that, and yet could not act, bound as I was (as I am) by the statutes of a world and life grounded in rigour. The years have only made this disparity worse, even if that fact no longer pains me as much (or at all). But what is hidden is not forgotten. Life may be proceeding at a nauseating pace, but all this time will have to pause, eventually. And when it does, I know the first person who I hope will call again.