I have waited for you, and I will patiently wait much longer. There are signs by which I will instantly recognize you, even though our paths have only crossed subliminally at best. Those instants are burnt into my memory by the powerful flash of Young Love.
We were children when we first met. You were led away from the carnage by the hand of your father. You turned and looked at me with an older look, with intent.
Later on, at college, protesting or yearning for a sane World, in the tumult of action and emotion, you embraced me with a tenderness that took me by surprise.
You never stopped caring about what surrounds you, diving into causes, fields, injustice. Your fame you carried like a torch to light your way so that when it was time to lay you down, you could look back and smile at a fruitful and fulfilled life.
I want to help. I want to burn in the blue and brown iris of your eyes, even as you shy away.