When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always

In These Last Few Days, We Were Close Because We Were Both Mortal Men. We Saw The Same Sun And The Same Twilight, We Felt The Same Pull Of The Earth Beneath Our Feet. We Drank Together And Broke Bread Together. We Might Have Made Love Together, If You Had Only Allowed Such A Thing. But That’s All Changed. You Have Your Youth, Yes, And All The Dizzying Wonder That Accompanies The Miracle. But I Still See Death When I Look At You. I Know Now I Cannot Be Your Companion, And You Cannot Be Mine

Be Kind. Always If You Have A Choice, Be Kind.

We’re Going To Die And Not Even Know. We’ll Never Know, And All This Meaninglessness Will Just Go On And On And On. And We Won’t Any Longer Be Witnesses To It. We Won’t Have Even That Little Bit Of Power To Give Meaning To It In Our Minds. We’ll Just Be Gone, Dead, Dead, Dead, Without Ever Knowing!

A Summer Rain Had Left The Night Clean And Sparkling With Drops Of Water. I Leaned Against The End Pillar Of The Gallery, My Head Touching The Soft Tendrils Of A Jasmine Which Grew There In A Constant Battle With A Wisteria, And I Thought Of What Lay Before Me Throughout The World And Throughout Time, And Resolved To Go About It Delicately And Reverently, Learning That From Each Thing Which Would Take Me Best To Another.

Why Does Shame And Self-loathing Become Cruelty To The Innocent ?