Lying Against the Current

We shall never meet again,
nor speak again;
like tears I'll veil
this pain.

I can no longer wonder, much as I try—
and that itself is wonder;
tell me, how many times does one person
die in this world?

Of course you too belong among the dead,
such words trouble you as well;
accepting all this silence—
is there joy in drifting with the current?