Will it be after death that we meet?

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When I long to be
 on my own

And not knowing
 how to make it,

I am cast away from crowds.

The restlessness of
 perfect knowing follows me all the time.

As if from my previous birth,
A crow, half turned and cross,
Enters my thoughts of my favourite bird.

"Whenever I walk amidst tall trees,
I love one of these trees.."

The opening lines of a poem
 comes to my mind.

Your voice is deeper than wind.

I want to be more than just a bit of it.

I want to be all of it.

Will it be after death that we meet?

This moment, Your silence is enough for me to think over