Piano notes drift in the
rainy evening,
like sadness from a
clock.
You were the color
in my dreams.
The paint on my
canvas.

Who remembers your
last breath
That lead you down unto
death
Who was there watching by your side
The afternoon that you died
Where was the place your soul departed
Was it happenstance
or wholly hearted
Did anyone pray or bid farewell
Anything more than it's time to tell
Who glanced at watch and marked it down
When sudden silence looks
around
The minute , hour , day , month and year
There ends the journey from there to here .

I want to whisper in your ear
As loudly and publicly
As a secret can possibly be
Open for everybody
Whispering audaciously

Sun in the night sky
erupts like laughter
sweet, old
but not as loud
tips around in splashes
that scotch the sky
and turn its blackness grey

I am haunted through hours
by the grotesque sounds
of its pain
people gape and smile
at the firework show

But I cannot still my shaking
I am too quiet to quench
the growing silence in me
I watch the show like all else
I fear I’ll never speak again

Every life leads to
Something bigger than
The sum of the parts
Tissues, fluids
Meat, bones
Kids
Creations
Art
What is left
Is rarely nothing
We live on
Somehow
The lucky ones

The inner critic
protects me from
reality and success;
It knows best.
It reminds me of
my hopeless plight,
my dark destiny,
my night of a
thousand storms.

Councillors say,
"Examine those thoughts.
Challenge them, are
they rational? "
I nod and smile,
and somewhere there
is a sparrow in me
that wants to sing,
that agrees with
the blue skies, and
the trees, and the wings
that have carried it
away from the pain.

But then the critic
and its minions
chatter away, and
remind me of failures,
they say,
"The play has already been written.
You're just doing your part-
your small walk-on part.
You don't get to rewrite it.
It's been written, it's finished.
You being a writer must appreciate
irony, isn't it ironic;
Thomas, no matter
how bad you want it,
you can't have it.
It's been decided, it's predestined,
long before you were born.
You lose, some win, but not you."

I faintly hear the dying song
of the sparrow, as I rise once again
and stumble towards the abyss.

silence waits for all noise
to cease

she will let you enter
her realms

when your effort
matches her solitude.