||[Aug. 29th, 2004|02:25 am]
Poets of the Night
Your sickness intimidates my pettiness.
The word terminal is denying my boredom rights.
Now that you're breathing these last known breaths,
and you're fragrance is that of death-
I'm reminded, with your humble embrace,
that we're only human.
Your home is too far away from mine.
I know that your visit here and now, to our hometown may be your last.
If nothing else, I will try remembering you
just as you were, before you fell sick.
It was your mind that was open for all that I had to say-
a saint in civilians clothing.
Every one of your spontaneous appearances-
a blessing in disguise.
I miss your life already.
I'm praying that your passing
will be painless without suffering.
Praying that all that was pleasant in your path,
renews your site and passes before your eyes
before your time has ended.