Tears From The Stars

On and on the rain will say, how fragile we are...

A friend is sick. Real sick. Going for surgery. He called to tell me and I felt something inside contract.

But letting go is part of life,
And death comes to all,
Love cannot brook it,
Life cannot resist it,
Nothing can.
Death comes in the end.

He may not die. He's still young. But he sounded so tired on the phone. Not this again. Just when I thought I had it beat. Not this. Oh please, not this again.

We grow weary of fighting. Sometimes we just want to lie down and get it over with. Sometimes we just want it all to be over. So much pain, so much suffering...to what end?

We fight our way up to touch some proverbial mountain top, to gather the icy stars, to rest in comfort for a while, here at the end of all things, looking down on vistas, looking down on clouds, feeling serenity.

But in the hushed oblivion, who do we see? What do we feel?

I sit here, pointless as always, trying to frame a sentence that makes sense, trying to count shares, trying to ask if any of this means anything to anyone.

I disappear into uncertainty. I thrash around for a bit trying to get out. And then I sigh. Give up. Allow myself to fall. Be carried off by the tides.

There is sorrow in the offing tomorrow.

There is the blasted light filtering through the cracks.

There is the smile of the Cheshire cat which fades slowly until it's just a memory, a gleam of teeth.

And as they turn to look back at you, one last goodbye.

Only, you didn't know it was goodbye.

You couldn't have known.

On and on and on and on and on and on...