I will not come today–
I cannot come tomorrow.
I am gone far away
Beyond the realm of sorrow;
Beyond the reach of sleep,
And past the firmament
I am gone. No word is sent.
I am submerged, sunk deep
In the black basalt of eternity.
So call no name–you will call hopelessly.
But let the turning sky be fair and blue,
With what I loved the most: the eternal hue
Of hope and wonder, that is always you.
from Night Sky, by Bernice Kenyon
New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951
In memory of Bill Andrews, August 29, 1955 – October 3, 2014