Here and now
I give to you
my little jar of lightning
When you're ready,
Call to the thunder
And the wind
will carry you home

-

There was Sam with his liquor
Luke with his drawings
Brian with his dogs, and
Buddy with his games

Lord knows we were not honest men
But we were trying men,
Little mad dogs of glory

And now years have passed
And we are still here against all odds
Still drinking from this cup of life
Still, not honest, but trying men

-

The best of nights
were not those which
we needed to mean something
Nor those we promised
to be anything

It was those where we simply
existed, for no greater purpose,
no bigger reason than to be just us,
alive,
together

-

The little child picks up a pebble
'Look Ma, how beautiful,'
Admires it for a few seconds
then tosses it aside

He quickly runs to his mother's side
Reaches for her hand
As they slowly walk past

The waves wash over the stone
Burying it in the sand
For another happy soul to find and admire

I think there's a lesson to be learnt here
But I don't quite get it
I think about it for a second, give up
And close my eyes

-

But if this existence,
mine and yours,
is merely a work of chance
Then how fortunate I am
to have shared mine
with you

-

I do not say to the world
Look, I breathe
Therefore I am king

I say to the mind
Look, I exist
Therefore I am

Not one nor the other
I am, was,
And will remain myself

-

We do not mourn the living
Not where there is life
Not when there is hope

-

She was easy to love
like the moon
and for a minute,
I forgot how I loved
the moon

-

She was always on my mind,
somewhere,
everywhere,
Ravaging it with energy,
messing with its motions

And she carried with her a
certain braveness
A certain magic
subtle, gentle, comforting
like the waves,
off the Malindi coastline

-

And now it is my turn
to write under the moon,
the same moon Atticus so revered

-