Fratris, don’t sink, don’t let your legs give in.Our palms still touching through a sheet of molten sand. I am here, I won’t go! Don’t let go of my hand. Falling to my knees, a slow descending path of the end. My fists on what I can’t break through, to get to you.Then nothing, just nothing. Dropping my head I am screaming into your emptiness.The echo you left behind, the void. With nothing left for me to find.All gone up in flames. The ink you turned to magic. In search for a beast that tames the inferno of your manic. Now ripping through my loss. Is pounding lifeblood that you tossed, laced shadows of your fingertips. Grazed by my lips. Handing over who was never mine. To God, in tears which won’t stop, I whisper into the Devine: Grand him peace, my Lord.
( Last memory poem now for a while. As I am trying to create encouragement.
Even I know poetry in all forms is art and part of the walk.)