Friday, August 9, 2013

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.

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