I am sorry for your death,
I am, truly.
But I strive to remember you not
As the Earth consumes you nor as
You gaze upon the blossoming roots
Of flowers, which I cannot fathom.

I shall remember you as I knew you:
Far more of everything than anyone else.
I shall forever recall the oceans locked
In your eyes; the mountains climbing from
Your back; the lightning which struck out
(but never violently) from your precious heart.
I doubt I could forget the gemstones
Which you forged in your brain
And then spat from your mouth,
Like a glorious fountain from a distant fairy tale.

This is how I shall remember you forever,
And I promise not to cry. You hated when I cried,
And I hated it more for causing you pain.
You were the last of six billion lives which deserved
A single dew drop of pain.

I should like to have a word with you
And perhaps a cup of tea and see a fair with you
And catch rabbits until I found a hare with you
And swim in the sea until your skin, so fair, turns blue.

Perhaps I could fly to Japan in a plane with you
And spot a solitary crane with you
And eat sushi with my fingers until my nails are crusted
With the smells of fish and soy with you
And I could fall into a puddle of rain with you.

I would craft a lovely riverboat and call it ‘Lou’
And sail into your heart without a crew
And harbour there and plant your favourite flowers
(Which are blue)
And let them grow until you knew
That I should like to spend a lifetime with you.
But first, I should like to have a word with you.

When the sun flits behind the horizon of your heart;
Its pallid afterglow blazing into the sky;
Read these words, and know that I loved you.
No other was ever of such fine creation;
I loved your every fleeting emotion.
I loved the changes in your aging face,
And the sorrows of your slowing pace.
I loved the shattering light of your feeling.
And your great, heaving sighs, your breathing.
I loved you with a love that time cannot deny.
Know that I still love you, slowly as you die.

Said the Summer to the Winter:
‘Dear lover, we cannot continue
For the autumn months condemn us both
To live alone, across the oceans.’

Said the Winter to the Summer:
‘My love, how I shall miss you.
But ever if you look beyond the autumn
There I shall be standing,
Few else alive but me. And to see
Your face from so many months away,
Amid a crowd of life:
It shall be enough.’

Yours was a sea birth.
You were born of the salt -
It made your bones.
Coral flesh covered your salt bones,
And a seaweed skin
Kept it all in.

You floated ashore with
Big pearly eyes, and no name.
They kept you on land,
It's where a man should stay.
But I knew you would be
At home in the sea.

I rolled you into the sea as you slept.
And when the water pulled you down,
I heard your laughter as you drowned.

I looked into the darkened water
(A perfect mirror of this place).
I looked into the blackened water
And I saw your smiling face.

I cried out and struck the lake,
Breaking up the mirror sight.
I split the stars across the lake
To tear your face across the night.

But you reformed of the waves
As they settled over time.
I saw no change among those waves,
But suddenly your face was mine.

I listen to our silence.
It can speak, but never has.
It listens to us.
It knows that just as the great sea can roar
But does not,
So should it keep itself.
That is, until such a time
As we roar with it.

'Why do we write?'
'Because we must.'
'Then, why must we write?'
'Because, like the great bear
'Who grows fat over the summer months
'So that he may survive the winter,
'So must we write.
'We write so that we may endure.'

Who was it
That decided
Life
Must be so very
Difficult?

I know the edge of the world lies
On the line between life and death.
And on each side are mournful cries;
Two choirs created of wasted breath.
I know because I am this line -
Not alive, but neither dead.
Between limited and endless time
Lies me: a lonely spark of dread.
And in this limbo I await
The decay and scattering of my soul;
Which endlessly itself debates
As to which side I shall go.