These words will outlive Rutger. They will outlive Harrison, and Ridley, and each of us. And even long after the last memory of Blade Runner fades away, these words will be again stumbled upon, and rediscovered by those who are not yet born - whatever their language, whatever their shape. For that which is true remains and recurs.
Eternity, too stretches, elongates the prolonged breath, time takes between our meeting, knitting dreams, of you that are just an echo of an unrequited want, The plasticity of soundlessness till I hear your voice bends and contorts, erodes, the shine from the stars, And all my nights are a range of darkness, with the faintest glimmer of you.