A Dash of Obituary:

Once, younger and foolisher,
I laughed at a father's maudlin manners -
home for lunch each day, a paper
to read, comics and ice creams
to ingest, and the finishing touch -
a dash of obituary.

Older, no less foolish, the medium
changed, ignored even, but still
the words of those who were
find us that still are -
with growing increase -
reminding our minds
the one true lover all
will ever know goes
by the name Letus
to some, Azrael, Morana,
to others, Valdis and Thánatos
and thousand others - all
embodying Death.

In this cosmology which is the human
existence our back-stories are littered
with the ghosted remains of friendship's
campfires. Those which, never intended,
long abandoned, we swore
to never leave.

Those whose leaving was not
for the wanting, not
for the needing, nor even
for the caring as we claim
in justification; the leaving
for the cruelest, most meaningless
reason of them all -

Life happened,

We

Just got Busy.

Search
that wasteland of your history,
find just one flame
that fired your past darkness.
Find them despite -
nay, because of -
the intervening years,
and say "hello my friend,
you are well?"

Say it. Say it
before there is nothing
left - nothing,
but the obituaries.

_{(Thursday, January 27, 2011 @ 03:17)}