_when the sadness splashed like tears against the boat_ In the end, we seek our own disappearance, to be nothing so that there is no more difference between the "I" and the "you," so the prayer can finally be said. Perhaps we realize then that while each step is a heartbeat, maybe the heartbeat doesn't belong to us. But it is a heartbeat we long for with every step. Longing for that moment when ice melts into water again. (Winter ice on the Assabet River, near Maynard, Massachusetts)