A loner's Ravings

Face to face with death is when your courage is tested down to the last nut and bolt. She was a brave lady. Fought cancer for three fearsome years, endured all the pain of secondaries in the bone, lungs and finally liver and brain. And the horrors of chemotherapy. She never once complained, or whined (the way I do). That lovely face with the hint of a smile even in the desolate stillness of death after a life that never had anything good for her from childhood makes me feel like a worm. She had no complaints. No grudges. No ill feelings towards the people who had hurt her so deeply. We will miss you. You have left us feeling that the world which produced a person like you cannot be all that bad. Goodbye for now. I am sure we will meet again.

I haunt my favorite location rather frequently these days. The sonorous breath of the deep water fills my soul with an ancient longing. I see myself in you, my dark, deep and silent. friend.

Pondering on the reason for one's existence is hardly the sort of thing one ought to be doing these days. But, there being nothing really worthwhile about life, about being alive, or even about feeling alive, this is just the kind of futile occupation that appeals to loner's of my sort. So here I am, by my favourite watering hole, listening to the silence of eons. Maybe I am weird, like some nice people have kindly pointed out. What they have not been able to point out though, is the reason for my weirdness or anybody elses weirdness. I guess, sitting by all by oneself, by the side of a sullen lake is weird. Fine. So I am a weird loner. Thank you very much. That is what loners are ! Anyway, I haven't posted anything at all for a long time. Even my best friends seem to have given up on me. It is tough being a loner. It is tougher being a weird loner.

"Mary" "Rabboni" It hits you like a hurricane.

I read that letter through again. Like I have done so many times before. It is like a voice from the past. Gentle and full of love. I can't believe anybody loved me at any time ! And yet I hold the proof right in my hand. How time has changed everything. Where have all those feelings gone ! I am so numb.

He sat by the lake, Listening to its resonant silence. The chattering rain mocked him. The wind, not less funny. But this is my place- Mock me all you like! He glimpsed the mysteries of the lake, And its profound beckoning. The gloom of the setting sun Lighting up the waves, Like the shimmer of silken pall, Means nothing. This lake,I know And this lake knows me Why are you calling me so early. It is not yet time

He was back in that old place, where memories were on riot. Nostalgia doesn't half describe what he felt. It was not the moon. Not the flowers. The shock of deja vu was in the ordinary things, in the vegetables and the sodden grass. The drizzle just added to the score. He realized what many before him had already known. That love is not about joy, or happiness. It is about anguish, about a glimpse of the unreachable. A vision of what the human brain can achieve, and what no neural circuit has yet managed to duplicate. Sitting on the moist rocks of the cliff, he realized he woud gladly go through the same pain, and grief. For love is a gift of god, even for athiests. A message form a power greater than humanity. And he said to himself. I miss you. I miss you like the air I breathe. The ripple of the waves of the lake, like soft laughter, fills me with a silent loneliness nothing can ever wash away. Where are you now? What are you doing?