Alone, You lived, my dearest friend--
all the days were seldom kind,
the world, to you seemed blind
yet in your works I do find,
sincerity end to end.
You gave us pauses--stresses too--
lines that questioned a callous life,
verses, unfinished, that are rife
with similes like a sharpened knife,
even your lies are true.
The Brain is wider than the Sky
to quote you in the least,
wondrous death would be your feast
the eternal fall of man and beast,
your words can never die.
You and I, we are the same--
shunning the dullness of prose
a heavy heart that no one knows,
existence connected through our woes,
we are both to blame.
Your tone, does not confuse me,
your titles, truly, never miss
you seal each line with a kiss
faith, bleeds in restful bliss--
Tell the horseman that we'll be,
two in the carriage towards eternity.