Rip Prince

Too many of late, Especially for "us", The last of the Baby Boomer generation, And the reality of our placement In the flow of existence, Is that the realm of oblivion Reaches it's sinewy fingers For all of us ... with Greater frequency Each day, it seems. Those "larger than life" Mentors and icons, Whose creativity has Provided the soundtrack And accompaniment to our lives, Are no less susceptible to Mortality's cold kiss than We are, though that Pedestal we place them On sometimes seems Higher than transience. As with each such a loss, The sun will rise a little More hesitantly tomorrow, Its rays will settle a bit less Warmly on our faces, and there Will be a "void unfillable" In the world of music ... A sour silence, the Remedy for which only The ears of angels will Strain to attend.