He was like an angel that fell from heaven


*But so was Lucifer

You called me golden
Like, perhaps, I could be a California river
And now I know that I am that swollen western stream
Scattered with pebbles of treasure
And you are the man that is sifting through me
Marveling at a beauty I cannot see:
Telling me how the sun made me sparkle,
Bragging about the curve of my body through the hills...
I know that I am that western vein because
I know I give more than I take,
I know I could never stick around for long...
I feel like you're like the others
Who held me in a colander and
Walked away with all I could give them.

If there is any life when death is over,
These tawny beaches will know much of me,
I shall come back, as constant and as changeful
As the unchanging, many-colored sea.

If life was small, if it has made me scornful,
Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame
In the great calm of death, and if you want me
Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.

I am told don't be loud, don't ever be angry, don't be outspoken.
I am told be soft, be calm, be quiet.
But I am a wildfire, I burn, I ravage.
I cannot, no, I will not be just a contained, flickering flame.
I refuse to be smothered, I refuse to be put out.
Though I may incinerate, might leave things scorched and blackened, I am also light, I am incandescent, I am effervescent.
And so I will set things aflame, watch me ignite.
This is who I am.
I am a wildfire.
And I shall burn.

Everybody seems to know
What to do,
Where to be,
What to say.

And among all that chaos there's us.
The lost ones.

Everybody seems to have
A goal to reach,
A place to be,
A person to meet.

And among all that determination there's us.
The lost ones.

We're searching for an answer,
Or a certain somebody,
Or a way to feel something.
But eventually we're just waiting for this always present confusion to vanish.

Death
is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only
slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are
you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is
untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other,
that we are still. Call me by the old famuiar name. Speak
of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no
difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity
or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes
that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray
for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it
always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without
the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever
meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and
unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible
accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out
of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, some-
where very near, just round the comer. All is well.
-Unknown