Good Pillars

It ain’t nostalgia

Beat Beat

In this morning heat

Cool, heavy air rises off the empty streets

Unveiling truth and loss like a sheet ripped from

The bed in which you neatly coddled up to him

Laid down for love

The last standing beacon of our blood—

I could have wept more then, but I could not,

There were so many others

My druthers, not wanting to be part of such a sad state of affairs and the crowd

Always wanting to scream at the tops of my lungs out loud

For you and the injustices of disease

Like the withering of bright leaves and the changing of seasons,

My treasonous pride—

This morning it drifts off

Up into the heavens

As the faintness of a grandmother’s outline, lightly vanishing

In goodbye, the spread out of gulls flown south for the winter

Bitterness dissipating, a cleaner farewell and a cold, hard lesson well learned,

Never hate the cruelty of fate or get burned—

Glaciers melting with the purifying cries of a boy,

His emotion an inferno,

Missing one of his beacons

Memories flood in,

Crystallized thoughts,

Rafts aplenty, so much wisdom to hold onto—

Drinks in this sing song sound of fight

From the heart

You light

Up his soul grown

From some netherworld

I am told

Wise spirit,

If I must part with you,

I will not part with your parting message

As it is one of steadfastness and hope,

Not the rope of inevitable uncertainty others make it out to be

Dangling, threadbare

A fatalist viewpoint

The tip of a needle

Used as an excuse,

No, I will not lose sight of what is right here in front of me,

I will not lose sight of what I must do,

I will not lose sight of the fullness in hue

That is life

I will go on seeing, being and doing

Living and loving

Beautiful beacon

That shines on in me still.