Love is the gut wrenching pain of knowing that I cannot ever hold you in my embrace again. It's the knowledge that you're gone but I'm still here, heart in searing pain. It's knowing that I cannot move on because there's no one as good as you to be found on this earth. Love has become the simple fact of loving a past memory of us.

When forced to confront my own company

I have found that solititude isn’t

as bad as I feared.

That I am fun by myself

And can stage a concert when -

with the speakers on loud -

I belt out song after song of my favourite albums.

And that has saved my sanity!

I have soaked up the comfort of my bed

And realised the beauty of simplicity.

For my bed has been my library, my church,

my cinema and - should I admit this - my dining room.

I have tapped into my creativity

with nothing but TTTIIIIMMMMEEE to nurture it.

whipping up pastries I had only ever bought before.

trying my hand at things I had once believed were not for me.

And the writing!!!!!!

Things were put into perspective

And I found the relationship with myself to be most essential.

Wasted years

What do they look like?

Can you show in a picture?

He nodded to himself

as he thought

about it

Of course

who other than him to know

what wasted years look like

After 45 years spent inside

a box he was qualified to

judge. And it wasn’t

even prison. It was the office.

Accounting.

45 years

And today...

Today he was the 65-year-old

photographer

who raised the camera before

the mirror and snapped

a selfie

and said

“I am wasted years.”

yesterday

your voice

burned

my lips

today

I burn

our photograph

forever

this longing

burns

Each story starts

with just two lines,

in pink

inked

on a stick;

developing an image

in the dark

of mother’s crib —

where spiritual is present

as the body,

formed of flesh,

hides

future sight

from vision

’til it stretches, thin, the mesh —

&

through the window pane,

we fall

like Alice

down the hole,

to chapters

that were written

before eyes

covered

our souls.

Purpose pens the plots,

each path,

(the author

yields free-will

in every choice

between the lines:

heartbeat

to limb leads

still).

’Til deja vu,

a bookmarked page,

illustrates

what’s been,

and destiny

reads right to left,

beginning

from the end.

Oh my friend, I feel so tired. You are sitting with me on the floor...not on the couch like we usually do. I know you are crying and I’m doing my best to make you happy. I’ve only ever been happy when you are happy. You get up and tell me it’s time to go. You’re putting my leash on, but I promise I won’t try to go after the deer or peacocks today. You help me into the car and it’s hard for me to get my tummy onto the backseat. The drive feels over in just a minute. I don’t want to go inside the building, even though I’ve been here before. There are young dogs in the big room and I’m scared. I don’t feel too good and I don’t know if I can make friends with them and protect you. I finally go in, because you beg me to. In our private room, the lady in white comes with her familiar voice. She is nice, but I never liked it here. It smells funny and the floors are cold. I hear you crying but I can’t lift my head, so I just raise my eyes to you. You put your head down against mine and talk to me. I haven’t heard well in years, but I feel your voice and it reminds me of the day you brought me home. I love you so much. I feel a little poke on my skin. I’m not sure where it came from. I’m so sleepy, best friend. Thank you for holding me.

A paradox, something that is true

And yet false

Something that lets you fly

And at the same time ties you down

When you promise that

You can’t keep promises

When you say ‘this sentence is a lie’

When the definition of ‘lie’ is ‘truth’

When the world turns upside down

And inside out

And is changing in so many ways

That it might as well not be changing at all

When you are inside of a paradox

Bound by gleipnir

Knowing that every second takes

You further away from freedom

You know what it is like

To be human

To know every day that you will die

That the meaning of existence is

There is no meaning at all

To live in a locked box

And unlock it from the outside

To promise a thousand things

That you can’t deliver

To believe in something so much

It exists

You know the pain

Of love

Of hate

Of grief

Of joy

Because you are human

Capable of unimaginable things

That demons and angels

Cannot understand

We haven't met.

Here we are -

at this party -

wearing these pseudonymous masks,

sharing words,

enjoying drinks (among other spoils),

exchanging spirits.

I feel so connected to this

family

I have never met

in person.

Thank you

for being here.

Just wanted to say -

I sincerely

love you all.