yakksoho
Bluelighter
I post this because this man's death was the first signifigant death in my life. George was the second.
Ode to Monseiur, Taken By Death
It was today that I returned
It was today that I went home
And when I read the news I cried
And so painfully I died;
My heart before my soul
Why is it that when I return
So full of mirth and joy
I find myself suspended?
I find myself to be not any longer
What I thought to be divine
My emotions were divine
And were preserved in perfect crystal
In the darkness of my mind
So why is it that when I'm home
At last in the place I feel in comfort
I am forced to wilt and droop
Like an unsuspecting flower?
As pretty as a flower
With my face no longer pale
In my eyes there was at last a thing
That you could call sheer joy
It comes so unsuspected
And comes with no consistency
Like all else I have come to love
So now my joy has turned on me
Cast me back to a torrid sea
Of self-concieved happiness
Which I realized is so dim
What a stupid notion to think that I could win
I have never won
I have always been cast away
I try and try again, in every given way
But never have I won
And this time was just the same
This time I lost the game
And another piece of me has wilted;
Another part of me has died
I have so many joys to think of
I have so many pretty books
I have things that used to make me happy
I have things that still could
If they only tried
They say I have so much to live for--
But what if all has died?
I cannot bring myself to say it
I never shall denounce myself this way
I will not die this way
One by one what I love will die
And become again what is was before creation;
What it was before it was given life
But I have so many lovely things
I have so many friends
And what lovely friends they are;
They are people who enchant me
They are people who I've come to know
As no one other than a friend;
People who don't hate me, people who gave me a chance
These people didn't know me; they only knew what I showed them
And they still have come to care--
But do they really care?
Not everyone can care
For me no one has ever cared
And do I know they ever will?
What if all these reflections
Are really something that can kill?
Do I really want to let myself be torn apart?
Do I really want myself to live with such an aching heart?
Why do all these people care--
Or why do they pretend to?
Who are all these people
Who I can be a friend to?
Do they really know me?
Must they ever know me?
These are people who make me laugh
And who have made me cry
These are people who make me live
And who can make me die
If I did not live for that one,
Would others hold a meaning?
Is all this just passion's lust
Which has been so misleading?
Have I really lied to myself throughout the years?
When I cry about my past are those really my tears?
It is with a heavy heart that I am forced to live
Something this persistant I just cannot see die
And I do not want to die
I do not want what I love to die
But someday he will die
I have know him for eight years
And someday he will die
Do I have to live to see him die?
All these people--all these friends--
Why do they have to die?
And so I give my love out to
The man who taught me how
And so I give my heart out to
The boy who hates me now
This man, this boy, so much alike
Both will never know
Just what it was that made me care;
It is nothing I can show
For now the man is dead
And now I fear the boy
They had so much power;
That boy made and killed my joy
But I give thanks to them both
As I do to the one who showed me
To this man who taught me how--
But this man will never know me
He has passed on into a world
Where nothing is alive
There is no heaven and no hell;
It is nothing but to die
And to the one who gave me the man;
I must say I love him, too
And it is for these little things
That I love him as I do
But one day he will leave me
As left the other boy
One day they both will vanish;
They both can make and kill my joy
And so I thank this lovely man
Whose knowledge I shall always use
This genius man who lived his time;
I will still peel my canvas shoes
And I thank again the one
Who brought this man to me
And again I thank them all;
For it is all just another chapter
Of my never-ending story
And in this chapter rests the life
Of the beloved Edward Gorey
25.4.00
note: Edward Gore died on the ninteenth but I did not find out until I returned from vacation on the 25th.
Ode to Monseiur, Taken By Death
It was today that I returned
It was today that I went home
And when I read the news I cried
And so painfully I died;
My heart before my soul
Why is it that when I return
So full of mirth and joy
I find myself suspended?
I find myself to be not any longer
What I thought to be divine
My emotions were divine
And were preserved in perfect crystal
In the darkness of my mind
So why is it that when I'm home
At last in the place I feel in comfort
I am forced to wilt and droop
Like an unsuspecting flower?
As pretty as a flower
With my face no longer pale
In my eyes there was at last a thing
That you could call sheer joy
It comes so unsuspected
And comes with no consistency
Like all else I have come to love
So now my joy has turned on me
Cast me back to a torrid sea
Of self-concieved happiness
Which I realized is so dim
What a stupid notion to think that I could win
I have never won
I have always been cast away
I try and try again, in every given way
But never have I won
And this time was just the same
This time I lost the game
And another piece of me has wilted;
Another part of me has died
I have so many joys to think of
I have so many pretty books
I have things that used to make me happy
I have things that still could
If they only tried
They say I have so much to live for--
But what if all has died?
I cannot bring myself to say it
I never shall denounce myself this way
I will not die this way
One by one what I love will die
And become again what is was before creation;
What it was before it was given life
But I have so many lovely things
I have so many friends
And what lovely friends they are;
They are people who enchant me
They are people who I've come to know
As no one other than a friend;
People who don't hate me, people who gave me a chance
These people didn't know me; they only knew what I showed them
And they still have come to care--
But do they really care?
Not everyone can care
For me no one has ever cared
And do I know they ever will?
What if all these reflections
Are really something that can kill?
Do I really want to let myself be torn apart?
Do I really want myself to live with such an aching heart?
Why do all these people care--
Or why do they pretend to?
Who are all these people
Who I can be a friend to?
Do they really know me?
Must they ever know me?
These are people who make me laugh
And who have made me cry
These are people who make me live
And who can make me die
If I did not live for that one,
Would others hold a meaning?
Is all this just passion's lust
Which has been so misleading?
Have I really lied to myself throughout the years?
When I cry about my past are those really my tears?
It is with a heavy heart that I am forced to live
Something this persistant I just cannot see die
And I do not want to die
I do not want what I love to die
But someday he will die
I have know him for eight years
And someday he will die
Do I have to live to see him die?
All these people--all these friends--
Why do they have to die?
And so I give my love out to
The man who taught me how
And so I give my heart out to
The boy who hates me now
This man, this boy, so much alike
Both will never know
Just what it was that made me care;
It is nothing I can show
For now the man is dead
And now I fear the boy
They had so much power;
That boy made and killed my joy
But I give thanks to them both
As I do to the one who showed me
To this man who taught me how--
But this man will never know me
He has passed on into a world
Where nothing is alive
There is no heaven and no hell;
It is nothing but to die
And to the one who gave me the man;
I must say I love him, too
And it is for these little things
That I love him as I do
But one day he will leave me
As left the other boy
One day they both will vanish;
They both can make and kill my joy
And so I thank this lovely man
Whose knowledge I shall always use
This genius man who lived his time;
I will still peel my canvas shoes
And I thank again the one
Who brought this man to me
And again I thank them all;
For it is all just another chapter
Of my never-ending story
And in this chapter rests the life
Of the beloved Edward Gorey
25.4.00
note: Edward Gore died on the ninteenth but I did not find out until I returned from vacation on the 25th.
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