ah, my Lord Myeloma––
i’m not surprised
to see you again
in this life––
but you’ve aged––
your beard is grey
& your hair
bleached white!
we’re touched by time,
the two of us,
& pledged by blood––
we are brothers
warmed by loving-kindness
let there be trust
& no enmity
between us
when the moment comes
to free my soul to the sky––
let me be
give me your hand
to do what good we can
in this world
together––
my hand is yours