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 Jan 2012
The They
My friend,
When you were born,
Life cast you into this dream
While giving to you love
To remind you of waking Reality.

As surely as I love you now
And sit beside your final bed,
Not soon to sleep, but soon you´ll awaken
From the dream from which Destiny calls.

Ahead of you Death has always walked
Showing you your fated path
And giving love in those precious moments
When the dreamer dared to lift his eyes.

In death your truth foreve finds you
When love reaches its Eternal Source
As the Reality with which it soon will meld
In the harmony of one´s mortal end.

The love we felt for you in life
Has touched us all beyond its close
Leaving memories in the livings' minds
And something deeper that we sometimes find:

In future moments of conscious grace
When Present's joy meets open hearts
We will be following You through love
More strongly than any memory.

If our recollections of you fade
-Though for me they never will-
Take comfort in your destination
That calls you clearly even now.

This solace I now try to hold:
Trapped in memories of your love
Which soon will leave this mortal plane
And leave me sitting here without you.

Your impending absence brings a rift
That keeps me from the words I preach
And casts me from God's loving arms
Into the abyss of this black dream.

These tears that I shed for you now
Fall on unforgiving floors
And force me to the recognition
That more than ever I feel alone.
A meditation on death.  This is what I felt as I sat beside him.
 Nov 2011
Day
walks on tiptoes; an arachnid of sorts
with ballet legs and great white jaws sinks its
teeth beside the collar of your jacket,
unfastening the buttons to expose
a healthy beat beat beat but the shame creeps
in, carressing a bare torso, looking;
searching for the fat in which to feast.
 Oct 2011
Day
even the kindest of honeybees will be crushed under the weight of rubber and cloth, a man lacking consideration, appreciation; though he has motivation for the adaptiation of our world in his view, when he steps upon that which composes our earth it is our cue. I know, my friends that condemnation is not what we’d like to see for our nation and as we yearn for preservation while our knowledge moves t’ward annahilation we acquire starvation, gain taxation, and yet we do not question our nation. I will do nothing less than scream liberation; yes, the time has come for our salvation.
 Oct 2011
Bruised Orange
return to me, that gentle place
settled in contentment of the
who that i am and the
all that is

trace me back
to the eternity of now
spiral me forward
to the forever of
here
 Oct 2011
The They
Now I will sing you this lullaby
About a man who could not die
All around him the world did pass
Like an endless hourglass:
He roamed the beaches throughout the land
Counting every grain of sand,
While in and out flowed the sea
Like another passing memory
And every night the sky grew dim
The ocean always sang to him
And lulled him to uneasy sleep
Troubled by his lonely keep
But with his final conscious breath
He’d always whisper his wish for death
I was compelled to get out of bed in the middle of the night to write this.

This was found originally on http://the-they.blogspot.com/

— The End —