There, Where Silence Is

A river that keeps flowing – through remembrance and light.

 

Dear Theo, my dear friend,

I am shaken – and yet, somehow, glad.
On Saturday, October 4th, we were able to hear your music – your presence, your sound.
You played like a young god.

 

My thoughts keep tumbling over each other. I remember: years ago, we came to Brüel, to your music, to Lydia Klammer’s performance.
“Come,” Lydia said, “I’ll introduce you.”
And we – fell into each other’s arms. After more than thirty years – our reunion.
And we continued where we had once left off:
working, searching, experimenting –
as if no time had passed.

 

Just a few days ago, we spoke on the phone.
We wanted to let The River flow through Venice – our new, shared project.
We were both so looking forward to it.

 

And then – last Saturday – you played like never before.
I had never heard you like that.
Your music breathed, it glowed,
and we embraced – more deeply than ever before.

 

I embrace you, dear friend –
ambassador of a music that opens worlds,
where we may wander, light and unburdened,
carried by your tones. We take one step, then another –
and suddenly, we are flying,
to see the universe itself.

Thank you, dear Theo.
Life grows quieter without you,
without your music – in this not-so-easy time.
But I know: your music remains.
And I believe I may say: we love you.
Those who cannot say that
have never truly heard your music,
never understood that through it,
you spoke of another, wondrous world.

 

We shall meet again –
if not in this world,
then in the next – the one that belongs to sound,
to radiant colors, and to the truly human.

 

I embrace you –
perhaps a little tighter, a little longer,
than your music ever enchanted me.