The cancer that killed you was part of you gone quite insane:
The good run amok; death from life bursting awry,
Like a poor paranoid on a bell tower sniping away,
Killing the order that gives all the colony life.
Nature, of course, has madness built into its music,
Disturbing its peace with the agony all artists crave.
Perhaps that's what killed you: the one-in-so-many malfunctions
That chaos requires to shatter the oneness of light.
But chaos is aided in our time by greed in abundance:
Greed like a cancer destroying our colony Earth;
Greed that we eat, drink, and breathe, in our dreams, in our language;
Greed in the nuclei of our dwindling faiths.
What killed you, my loved one, is blended in recycled plastic
Spewing its toxins in micrograms into the sky.
Your life was a goat on the altar of modern convenience,
Bearing the sins of us all towards that merciless god.
We live in a world whose rulers are partners with death;
For whom cancer must be a number that balances out.
You were just perhaps the unlucky percent to be traded
For progress towards some CEO's end-of-year bottom line.
The Gift of Life Is Never More or Less
The gift of life is never more or less.
Either days or years are merely moments.
Reverence remains the source of bliss.
More memories do not increase remembrance.
If death must early come, then let it be
Nor more nor less than if it had come late:
A part of a much larger mystery,
Leaving wind and wisdom in its wake.
Longing is the music of our sphere,
Yearning for a time past time and space
In which all that we love is ever here,
Love everlasting, which is now our grace,
Living with us more than we can bear.
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Charity Is like
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Gold Is Not
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