Lament for the Young

For those who have lost something or someone too young.

As the sun grew atop me and

eventually ensconced my soul,

within its every amber wave

I felt almost calm as I faded

from memory, your memory,

into the grape hung night I hung,

like an old man wasting away

in an archetypical den,

the blazing hearthside calmed the souls,

then the conflagration guttered,

its little pool of light trembled,

and I understood how cold feels.

How, at the helm, the emptiness comes

Betwixt all the hues that were shown

In such vivacious tapestries,

and through perfect imitation,

my mind had controlled their contrast

as i spoke of their warmth with you,

About the brilliant satsuma tinge

When it gave way to the dullness felt

even in the sun’s searing guidance

the embers failed to lend their glow.

Death leaves a heartache that none can heal,

and love leaves memories none can steal.

I penned these feelings with your blood,

Inked all along with your heart prints

and found that this demon fated world

that we endured was because of me.

I am the only monster here,

and I know that you were meant for more,

To find your peace within the light,

A powerful, unyielding light

One which guides in this vicious storm,

a paper lantern chasing night,

always meant to be something more,

meant to burn so perpetually bright.

Usually I rely on facts

the pedantic virtues of science,

I can’t help but feel that it was time.

In a modest pocket of my soul,

encompassed in this human form,

i had known this sadness all along,

beyond a microcosm of doubt,

I knew it was time to say goodbye

No form of fact or of science

could tell it to me otherwise.

You know how sometimes you just know.

How when something seems so wrong, it’s wrong?

Those perfect stars placed far up there

in that velvet canopy for you,

they weren’t right, they didn’t look right,

like someone took them and altered them.

I understood your light was fading,

and none of the sciences we study,

or any penchant for knowledge

was ever going to disprove it.

Now you are one with existence,

those whose existence I cannot know.

And it is time my dear friend,

to take off those plastic wings and fly,

fly skyward like you were meant to,

above the clouds, among the stars,

you go ahead and fly dear friend,

and remember that I love you.

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

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