Come on and take a walk with me–
imagine all the things you never dreamed you could be.
With all the versions of you tirelessly imitating,
come out at last and let the real you be free.
A brilliant writer doesn’t write for the masses;
a brilliant writer writes to survive.
Pen to paper or whatever scrap they can find,
just to scribble down the thoughts pouring out from the inside,
sometimes like an avalanche making way for further expansion.
Such a great release to give
voice to feelings by means
of what can only be described as divine intervention.
They cling tight to one another; they’re all they’ve ever known. To once be with him, to now be without him. They’re trembling for their lives as it creeps upon them; the reality of their loss being defined by days, weeks, months, now years as they made it through their first one. Sometimes there is light in the distance but not on a day like this. On this day, they mourn. They sit and weep; they bury their burdens deep. They find no solace in thinking about tomorrow; from where they are it’s just full of more emptiness and sorrow. But on this day it is good to remember the time he spent here, the meaning in the tears that won’t go on forever. Tears eventually get replaced with the kind of smiles he always put on their faces. He stays alive in their hearts and in their lives because of the love he gave them.