comatose

An Old Friend Sunday, October 22, 2006

Hello, my friend,
I thought you were still adrift!
What foul breeze has brought you in?
What grave misfortune has landed you here?

My friend, what treacherous fiend
has plucked the spark from your eye?

I have called this place my home
long before you came with your suffered face,
still distinctly chiseled with the slow,
painful culmination of its final days.
Oh, what joyous occasion...
What sad momentous grief!

My friend, I have long been in the dark,
will you grace me with moments of light?

Those seductive mountain springs,
forever shrouded in the dense,
soupy fog of late fall...
The morning dew, which makes love
to the exuberant flowers of spring...
Fierce summer storms whose flashes of light
detour throughout the amber sky...
These are but empty words to me now,
no sensorial memory remains!

My friend, why do you look upon me
with such callous, watchful eyes?

I remember the first time I died...
What awe to listen to the silence
of your own heartbeat...
That convulsive desire to steal
a breath from the stale air, as if
all of life depended upon it, ha!

Oh, my friend, what distasteful haste!
Has death not accompanied you here?
My poor friend, do you not see?
Upon landing here, you are as dead as me!