I want to be like

Alyosha
and lie on the damp earth
in transcendent exultation,
loving the very act of being
itself.
I want to be able to say
along with him,
that we will all see each other
again,
and say it with the joy
that the great Russian writer
has him feel.
And I have to laugh.
What does it say about me
that I even now envy
someone
who never existed?
It's just that it's been
so long...