A Man Leaves Us

Some kind of graphic immortality to grace my sight each time an old photo appears, and he is still to give me all he is that instant. I may study him, and unconcerned about excess, may send him on. His gift is wondrous, total, as his spirit flies to realms I do not wish to understand-- they are his own, but just before his flight I see him caught in a curious spectrum, ready to change, ready for his unknown now. I want to take some time; he can spare it, forth or back and there is possibility; He is in control, and looking even closer, moments congregate. A newer history may thunder down the path, a birth, a death, a song that may not ever be. It is late. His rest, and mine are close at hand; he disappears between the album covers as his phantom self persists in memory. I cannot close that flashing moment, fast away when I saw him hover there upon the edge of time. ~