The master is dead,
Since then, hiccups in the blanket
From a large bed, cold, already
And then, nothing more.
Nothing more that I hear.
From my country house,
The snow has already covered
Roofs, fields, roads and gardens
With the same carpet of flakes.
In my living room,
The edelweiss under a glass bell
Radiates its silent mystery
None of the neighbors know.
Notes & Silence 
Perhaps a « master » – whatever that might be – teaches best by leaving us in silence, and unseen.
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I’ve heard the same argument to justify having children after 60.
Not living long enough to really bother them
While having enough time to truly enjoy them.
I don’t know if that is true.
___
« In silence and unseen. »
A more subtle and deeper relationship…?
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In such a context, the argument becomes a reduction ad absurdam, I think.
Though leaving the kids alone more might be wise, on occasions.
The relationship of the benevolent observer?
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This teacher of mine was just a crazy old man looking for an ex post manner to rationalise his …ways.
I forgot about the relationship for now…mustn’t have been extremely worthwhile, as often.
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