We cried out that our feet were sore
walking into eternity you and I
you said you would carry me
but I didn't want to get carried away

and I didn't want to weigh you down
even further
because I knew what you had taken on your shoulders
and I would never add to that

I didn't need to vocalise
you knew
and we smiled
as we walked into our fate.

Our unique fingerprint
not one the same
it couldn't be serendipity that our blueprints are so distinctly different.

Oceans apart
yet the one moon we all share
that which brightens up the darkest of skies.

It made me think there is more to this human life
than we could ever think of in this lifetime, at least.

The taste of loss -
it was indescribable and there were really no words I could gather together for you to understand.
'You're doing great.'
- that platitude we know oh too well and one that rings around the eardrums of everyone not doing great -
like drums in the parade, you hear it louder and louder aligned with the procession of what was to come next.
The drums stop, uncertainty and silence sweeps in while we all search for an answer.
No one else could really connect with the gravitas of our situation
and while our sorrow began to carry us away -
to another place -
gravity kept our feet firmly to the ground.
We played his old jazz music to make up for the dissonance in the emptier house
the house without his idiosyncratic footsteps
the house saturated with his electric guitars
- but without the player who would use the tips of their fingers for the chords.
Although not pious, we knew you had reached Nirvana and for that I had to be content, give my consent
because the consensus was you never convalesced.
So you transcended and travelled -
while we had spiralled on this earthly plane -
in opposite directions we went
but somehow still it feels like you never left.

I still hadn't really dealt with my sadness
it's funny how your feelings can sometimes swallow you up
whole
without any real logic behind it
that really was power of thought.
I created this vision of you and I
and saw the future in my mind's eye
but we both know that never came to pass
you saw something different and chose another path -
and that's totally okay
because somethings are just not meant to be
although I saw it differently
for you and me.

I can't just write without purpose
that would be too easy
and I definitely couldn't write about you again
the subject of all my thoughts -
my entire content -
the centre of it all.
This time
this time, they say, it will be different
we will rewrite our stories with something new and unimaginable
this time
this time.

We were so detached from the others
our voices sore and aching from the cosmic conversations which had before cluttered our minds but now dripped from our tongues like water on the leaking tap.
You and I, the explorers of this monolithic place,
where the inertia of it's inhabitants had spread like wildfire
we were the resistance.

You sat on my bed and told me that we needed to speak
I hadn't even finished putting on my new bed sheets
so -
I really wasn't ready to have this conversation
and I was so tired
You told me things are black and white but I just shook my head
and I told you
there are so many colours in between
but I wasn't going to paint your world for you.

I was so conscious of your conscience
like a corrupt politician
too many contrasting thoughts you were thinking
and we were now at war
too complex to resolve
too easy to dismiss
unwilling to hear any words dispersed from the others lips
every syllable missed
but I thought about what Dad would have wished.

We thought we had learnt from the past
but there was still the same rage
and it really was just another day
we were thinking with the same minds
no clear blue sky.