The Loudest of Minds

One doesn't know, just how much space there is;
Unless someone vanishes, and leaves it all hollow. 
And you don't realise the difference,
Between rust and gravy;
Unless the pot is empty.

Here I am, at the edge again. 
The intent is there, the peril is there.
But I wonder, when I land in the valley below,
Would I find you there?
Or would you fly away, like your ashes in my pocket?

One more time, brother, we fly together.
And this would stay, not just as a memory;
But as the color of my dreams, the hum of my silences.
This would stay, in every song of the rushing wind.

There would be no mourning, for your happy soul would never need it.
There, infact, would be celebration; for it is what we know you'd have liked. 
And there would be our lives, surrendered, like yours;
To this amazing world of weird space and time.

To the music of the wind in our ears,
The thrill of gravity in our gut. 
To the limitless, boundless freedom of flight,
And the best time of our lives.

Brother, fly high and strong now,
Wind beneath your wings. 
My hollow pot rings without mirth,
And since our shared laughters and drinks all vanquished now,
Our love stays like the rust.