Two good men made their dwelling,
Each was young and had worked much,

Both had much to enjoy,
But neither could partake in joy,

These men could only see one goal,
Their lives were devoted to others,

One sole purpose to die for another,
And give the greatest gift they could,

But the question is dear reader,
Who Is The Bigger Fool???

The man who gave his life immediately,
Selflessly sacrificing himself upon opportunity,

Not seeking fame,
Nor pursuing thanks,

Not waiting for a "good enough" reason,
Not selecting someone "worthy" of him,

Or the man who waits until he is old,
Watching  for a prime opportunity,

Wanting to give a greater gift,
Refraining from saving him soon to die,

Rather saving a child from early death,
Or someone desperately in need,

He can show the world,
How selflessness can be righteous,

But he must suffer long,
In his constant search,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

Sitting alone passing time,
Keeping it all together,
Put on a bright fascia,
Tell myself your almost home,

As minutes to to hours,
And mind running wild,
I cannot connect with you,
What could have happened,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

The phone rings across the table,
Summons me to the hospital,
Arriving to find you asleep,
Sleeping but alive,

The nurse gives us some space,
Saying you won't last long,
You turn and look,
Broken and forced you whisper,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

Never will I love again,
The pain cannot subside,
Love can only come once,
All else is hollow,

Life drags on,
Laying on my deathbed,
I can have but one thought,
Looking at you and whispering,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

I hold my breath
with the last
of your words
forever
in my lungs

reciting your love
as if a chant
a comfort
for those of us
who find ourselves
lost
hoping my exhale
does not
break the spell

A random thought
(Take it as you will):
I've been in every hotel
On this little hill

I guess sixteen years
Is enough time
To see every inn
I'm this road's line

Walking in the midnight garden of lost hopes and dreams

I inhale the scents of not all it seems

It's here the Dedpoet speaks to me

He tells me things I didn't know

As away I go

further into the realm of enchanted dreams

Here, past, present, future, hold no sway.

Blindly I place one step in front of the other

Pathways are a long time gone.

All the while I hear his voice

Omnipresent, pure, urging me forward

Breath holds in my chest

Unwilling to escape,

Again I hear that voice

Leading me to clarity

Where at last I breathe

Rejoice