To Ric

One more memorial...

What to say, friend, for thine awful Decision gives us that silent pause, To catch ourselves to say, “How can this be? What is thy Cause?”

Thine act hath op’d the window, vast it’s view of Gnostic beliefs, Ours to review, what now with thee? What now with us, aside grief?

We too shall o’er, tis our one comfort, this cosmic, shared enveloping. The invitation home comes when the cosmos strikes our ending. 

Clotho makes the choice, not us, Yet those with particular bravery, Countermand what is not to their liking. Thou hast thine own authority. 

“Yet what,” the poet asks, “If it were my heart wrapped in crepe?” Would I torment my father’s children with my untimely escape?

Is that door ours to shut or open? Does fate contrive or is it all but chance?  Are we wallflowers, waiting for the Divinity to lead us to dance? 

Not the brain, but tis the soul sees life unconfined with endless breadth, Life beyond the pulse. Nonetheless we mortals mourn he who tested the depths.

Whether tis right or no, these thoughts are not the poet’s to entertain. Our work is questioning the heart, where answers, uneasily, are obtained.