He was glad his friend had stepped out to observe with him.
“It’s always so interesting,” he mused, “to listen whenever the humans talk about death, because by their very nature, they can hardly know anything about what they’re talking about. And even so, it seems they frequently forget the mystery of it all and count it commonplace, as if there did not lie beyond their veiled view this amazing next place that is the very answer to that churning question of a world in which they now live and move and have their being.”
And it made his friend remember how it had been for him: “Oh, when I was there, the question was always churning inside me, and I could never put the answer out of my mind for long—fuzzy though it might have been.”
“Me, too. Something had got me yearning for a country not my own, and I couldn’t put it down.”
“Ha!,” came the reply. “And as we watch them now, we see that so few seem to be able to pick it up!”
“Few, indeed! Just as it has always been.”
