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