Unable to reach Allan on his direct line,
I called reception.
“Allan isn’t here,” I’m told by a nervous man.
But damned if he’ll tell me where the lad’s gone.
Except that he left suddenly, with much undone.
Hmm . . . Files that needed tweaking . . . .
I can understand. I still hold a few he’d been perusing,
And, with his exit, became more like an infinite conversation.
The receptionist clears his throat for the final download,
And in an instant I understand:-
Long or short,
No matter can hold Allan now.
He’s finally free of lists and obligations.
There are no more paths to build in the network.
And no more for his trained mind to troubleshoot.
Allan decidedly left that building on Adelaide last night,
Regardless of whether those depending on him were prepared,
And whatever force beckoned, now has him in hand
Where I cannot wish him back in his desk chair,
Even if I commanded the mighty unconscious.
Nevertheless, I don’t.
He’d understand best about wasted wishes,
Though now I understand a little more.
Wherever he is, I expect he has no regrets,
For about those, there’s nothing we can do.
Best now to find that meadow with the musical stream running through, and
Seat himself there comfortably, to reflect on life’s countless mysteries.
If you do, Allan, I will accompany you there, temporarily.