"You knew him in another life." He said.
I knew him before I was born.
Before I was dead.
Did we share a nest or lair, or at the least,
Were we fellow germs in the stomach of some great beast?
Were we comrades at arms, or farmers of the soil?
Together did we toil?
Upon the countless eons of lives come and gone.
The heap of humanity from which we've sprung.
The memory is lost across space and time,
But in table's conversation or kindred thought,
The sense of life's essence is sometimes wrought.
Though I met him but once and he is now dead.
The memory is burned in my mind what he said.
And sometime after this trouble and strife.
We will meet again, in another life.
Copyright 1997 © Ronald W. Hull