Requiem

I wrote some music today.
I composed my thoughts in notes,
In harmonies, in suspensions,
In cadences,
In climaxes,
Expanding a piece I began in the eigth grade.
My own requiem.

My own mass for the dead.
Written for my funeral to be,
Like a bride in waiting.

Patiently waiting
For my surprise party.

So much has changed since then though.
It's almost silly to continue on with it,
But continue i do.

Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.

There will be a bass and a soprano,
Echoing one another.
Calling out but hearing no angels,
Just the callback of another person
Wondering the same thing.

Requiems are for the living,
Like funerals.
A way to express the beauty of life
Within a structure,
Within a design.

I doubt I will finish
Before life is finished with me.

Falling


He told me he was leaving
And then the rains came.
The leaves fell overnight.
Summer had turned to fall with no warning,
Just as his departing.

Would it have been easier in the spring?
The dead of winter?
Midsummer?
Who knows such things.
Nature would remind me
Whether through empathy or irony.

But time stops for no one.
Not the living, not the dying,
Not the mourning or rejoicing.
The days march on 'til the cold reality of winter sets in,
Followed by the forced cheeriness of spring,
The laziness of summer,
And finally back to here,
To the rain, to the leaves,
To where I stand now.
To the fall.

Back to the beginning.
Or is it the end.