Alice Coltrane, your music brings something out of me, Something nameless something I keep buried. As I lay on this bare mattress, humming along to “Turiya And Ramakrishna” I ponder if you knew your legacy. If during those last days in 2007, you ever thought your work could inspire poets of the next generation or was that even a question lingering between your tempels? Perhaps not.
Well as this pen dances to the melodies you wrote, I think, and think and blink and sink I wonder if my last hours will happen a year from now or a decade or a month or a week And what will remain of my creations Have I touched enough lives Have I loved enough souls Have I danced enough Gave enough Laughed enough?
I envy the sand devoured by oceans because it’s simply moving on to its next life I envy photographs because their moments last forever I envy the tortoise’s shell I envy the hourglass because its fate is no mystery I envy those who do not envy I envy the days before sundials when days simply couldn’t fit onto paper squares
I...don’t want you to worry. I am a spark Finite but furious bright, unstable, contagious and capable of lighting your way before I fade