R.I.P. (?)

[Guest guest]

R.I.P. (?) Warm playful days such as today are meant to be explored together, willingly, effortlessly bound, sharing the sun and hearts, yet we're not there. Becoming shadows is so easily done, and become comfortable like a pair of worn out shoes. The ducks are sitting in the stillnes of their lucid pond awaiting our breadcrumbs, but alas, our picnic basket has long been thrown into the realms of the attic. I suppose they will starve. The butterfly gathering- A swaying flower filled meadow, the field which is their church, beautiful and sacred. Oh what a sight to

behold, watching as they dive and dance in praise of life. We should be there doing the same. Another sermon missed. The crickets and owls; natures night time symphony to the connect the dots erray of endless stars. The treelimbs eclipsing the moon making a game, Now you see me, now you don't. Our seats were reserved. We declined. Love can be seen as a four letter word. So many uncertainties and broken glass dreams. Time will bring wrinkles, yes, but only to the face and hands. Love is immune to time, even death. Eons from now, a child will see a wishing star streak through the

sky, and with our names unknown, he will point and say "there they are!" Life, and all the storybook happily everafters has been given. Offered. Dropped at our feet A colorful bow tied gift for us to open, yet we only see it's shadow. The dark empty image of what it is and who we are. Why is it so hard to light a candle yet so easy to rip the sun from the sky? Perhaps we are already dead. Randy

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