And I cry for the loss….

“…They think of suicide as a quick route to oblivion, an escape. Far from it. It merely alters a person from one form to another. Nothing can destroy the spirit. Suicide only precipitates a darker continuation of the same conditions from which escape was sought. A condition under circumstances so much more painful.”
― Richard Matheson, What Dreams May Come

For masses
A friend yet
Not a personal friend,
A childhood icon
Who taught me that laughter was ok,
Who taught me that you can be
All you dream.
A master in disguise
What torments the mind
To make the call that the time is now,
And I cry for the loss,
But I think I was told once,
that this is how life goes.
Rhyme with no reason
Losses yet another
And I don’t know why.
But hearts ache for a family at loss
Hearts are broken
for no good that I know of,
but it is not my moment.
These are not my lines to speak
but a Solitary goodbye spoken to the wind.
Missed you will be
and anger fills my heart,
But I will survive
For that is the honest way
to say goodbye.
Curtain call
Fade to black.
No standing ovation of flowers
As you have gone
Shutting the door,
Goodbyes never spoken aloud.

Dead poets society:
Neil: [quoting Henry David Thoreau] “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”

I hate being angry with the choices people make, but it is their choice and not mine, and still it breaks the heart and I can only cry in sadness….if only….questions un Answered.
To my childhood icon, rest in peace….thank you for your gift of laughter.

Song of woods

Flute drifts through slumber
Whispering winds of woods call
So softly
So sweetly
Lulled by the magic
Hooves stamp prints
Captured in the moss
At night they move
Like ghosts through trees
Stopping to listen to a branch breaking
The crack like gunshot
In a silent forest.
Faun waits for her approach
His music sensuous
Hypnotic she moves like a dancer
Quiet steps along the path
Leaves blow around her feet
The cape covers her
Shrouding her in dark shadow.
She feels him near
Her senses alive like a gentle caress
Fingers moving softly
Through her hair to her neck
She shivers and waits
Let him come
Let him find her waiting
He will play the music
For her
He will play her heart
Like notes from his flute
Like a wood song
Of magic.

A faun, as painted by Hungarian painter Pál Szinyei Merse

Pond days

I watch the smiles on faces
Small children laughing and splashing
Spring fed and crystal clear Pond
turning muddy after awhile
As they jump in off the dock,
Screams and laughter in air
Filled with innocent bliss.
Lips blue in the summer sun
Wrapped in towels they shiver
Then back in again
Dark moves in and they swim
With friends they’ve just met,
Not wanting the day to end.
I know someday it won’t be this way,
They will get older
They will be too busy for such games
And they will grow squeamish of mud between toes.
The jars of baby frogs
Will not happen anymore,
And they will be off driving with friends
Listening to music
And being adults.
Will they remember these days,
The gathering each year at the pond
With food and the bonfire to warm up with,
Driving home at midnight exhausted
Sun baked and tired
Off to home and bed,
Bubble gum cups clasped in dirty hands,
The motion of the car ride
Lulling them to sleep.
Don’t grow old child,
Keep the magic in your heart for just awhile more,
Teach your future children the joys
Of time spent under the sun and moon,
And don’t forget to wish on the stars
For more beautiful memories like today.
Stay young and shining
Stay free to be

Thoughts on a BBQ annual party and watching the kids with the sad realization that someday they won’t want to do this, swim in pond water and laugh and have fun outside with no technology involved. Keep alive the spirit kids.