For He Is Gone

Continuing with the dark theme...I can't explain this poem to you to be honest. I haven't lost anyone influential - other than my cat Pingu, who was 5, last month - from my life in recent times, nor am I in mourning, in real life.

However this work is written from that perspective, of somebody in mourning for a figure he has lost.

FOR he is gone.

Far from this life

Indeed, non-existent

Yet bearing of no strife

May I be.


The rain glimmers as it glances its way

Down the window-pane

And the boom of the music I hear

In the background

Distracts my attention ever-more.


But distraction is welcome; ‘tis a way away

From my heart’s still grief, if only for



Dripping. Endless. Carefree and despairing

Goes the water upon my window.

And with beauty, and free indeed does it


Yet worsen the plight of one such as me.


For in spite of its beauty

And that of all else

He is gone.


As gifted and as gracious

As may be my life

I cannot feel

For he is gone.



And of course – most disdainfully

Of course

He is never

To return.


And I, most atheist be I

Can know of course

That I am never

To join him.


I did write once

Of a ‘thunder silent mime’.

Thus, this the path of my life

Has become

Though more akin to a broken

Forever out of time.


And every time the bells are chimed

In the city nearby

May there be one toll of the bell

For every tear I cry

In the pain and the depth of the


Of it all.


For gone is the one upon whom I

Could call

In times such as this.

Who in the past would make giants look

Evermore small

In the past that is gone

In a time of bliss.


But now he has departed

This world and so, with it

My heart.

I remain as a being, of life just now


In which he played




So perhaps safer be it to cease

My reminiscence

Perhaps safer be it that I did not


To contemplate simply my own


Without his playing of a part.


For the life I lead

Must be my own.

For I cannot stop long to grieve

For I must allow him to go.

For now and for

Ever more.

But he is gone.

And my heart also and hence with it my


Without this man

I cannot live.


And as the broken clock continues to tick

As on his bed

This man grew evermore sick

And as he saw the dimming dark din of

The lights

Blow out, bow out one final time


That I saw in his eyes

a reflection

Of the quiet and solemn and

Peaceful and thunderous

Of his life.


And of mine.

The End

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