There are people in this world

Who see things so clearly

That it brings them to the edge of madness

Peter was one of these rare people

I had the privilege to be called one of his friends

Which brought me a great deal of pleasure

But I was still a train wanting to move

Yet stuck in a tunnel on my own design

Whereas Peter is a sleek silver express

Speeding through the ice thoughts of others

I am not aware if Peter had a relationship with God

Or whether he was indeed related

That is not for me to say

As this in a way is beyond my understanding

Or exists in fields that I choose not to understand

At present Peter is sailing the world

He is sometimes accompanied by a companion

But more than often travels alone

We exchange random messages of love

As friends often do but I have a nagging feeling

That I will not see him again or hear his voice