Daily Archives: March 8, 2003

Losing a Good Friend

I found I knew you, and then you were gone;
they seem too brief, the paths that we wandered,
and though in my memory you live on
it feels like so many days were squandered.

The things that I should have said, I never
spoke; so much has been left here unresolved.
Had I guessed by such a fragile tether
we were bound – if I had been less involved

in the rest of life, teeming around us,
perhaps I would have noticed the faint signs
that we two had so little precious time.

But now, it is too late to make a fuss;
I carry on with just parts left behind,
and the brief glimpse of love that you made mine.

08 MAR 2003

for LJ user cathla143

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Marriage and Weddings

Each circle shared is a chance for new growth;
in the union of two souls a life is born,
and for those who truly respect their troth
a precious and delicate bond is formed.

Great adventure lies on the path ahead;
draw fresh your own maps as you travel,
and where once was one, are now two instead,
sharing strands that the world can’t unravel.

Find pleasure and joy and Music to sing
(for you now have all the means to duet)
and seek happiness for the both of you;

Together, you’ll face what the future brings
(and the best has not even happened yet);
just believe, and your love makes dreams come true.

08 MAR 2003

for Live Journal user flirtykatiegurl

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This one may be the hardest to write yet,
because words are not what make a thing so;
and sometimes, it is easy to forget
this fact, and think the world cannot just go

on praying (which is an action, surely,
yet times require a much more active verb),
but will seek for solutions based purely
on a desire to stop this mad, absurd

denial of our shared humanity.
Too many sit and bewail these harsh times,
still do not speak against our sickened state;

one definition of insanity
is helping the heartless and mean to climb,
waking only when it is far too late.

08 MAR 2003

for Ed Book

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for LJ user indiancutie

Along its brown muddy banks, the Ganges
traces the lifeline of an ancient palm;
the left hand of Brahma, whose phalanges
grasp the waking world in a dreaming calm;

there is nothing his breath does not touch,
and no one lies outside his healing hand.
Yet, despite this, small differences make much
division throughout these old, sacred lands.

Gandhi saw this vision too – no fist curled
to fight – but sadly found too many blind
to the cloud of maya Vishnu floats,

holding fast the mad fabric of this world,
yet biding us to seek within to find
the jewel in the heart of the lotus.

08 MAR 2003

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The Giant Squid

Beware the Kraken, great beast of the seas
that brings grown sailors as one to their knees;
it strikes without warning at things afloat
and makes kindling from the grandest of boats.

Its tentacles latch to our darkest dreams,
and wretch our bright ship’s planks loose at the seams;
the craft that we trust our treasures to keep,
it pulls from the surface down to the deep.

The crest of its beak fills our hearts with gloom
when it surfaces; and its cold mad eye
looks upon us and sneers, as if to say,

“You neglect me and my kind to your doom.”
At such times, even the warm sunlit sky
brings no comfort or happiness our way.

08 MAR 2003

for Live Journal user sara_wolfe

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True power isn’t intimidation
nor does it manifest itself by fear;
lashing out doesn’t help a situation,
nor make a solution any more clear.

Might has never really made a cause right,
only forced gentler souls to be slaves
and pushed trust and reason far out of sight.
It is no great thing, yet we name brutes brave

who resist tender feelings and can strike
without mercy or any sense of shame.
If they can dominate, hold all the cards,

then we cower as they take what they like,
never holding our own culture to blame
while we build more prisons and new graveyards.

08 MAR 2003

for LJ user nutmeggie

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Why the Lady is a Tramp

In a comedy of errors, mistakes
are often seen as lessons of great worth,
and the small things, the accidents of birth
can determine where the plot line takes

us. Sometimes, when two paths must separate
we find that our sense of the counterpoint
is lost, and the whole world is out of joint.
At these times, we are prone to question fate,

and in the stillness of our darkest hours,
to pine for the wild chaos of the storm
that two travelers weathered together.

Ah, sweet love! There are no earthly powers
that harnessed, will keep your heart safe and warm
while tramping after such fragile treasure.

08 MAR 2003

for Pietro

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