On this, the eight month marker of the world being a lesser place, I felt compelled to write something, anything to purge myself of some of the sorrow the 22nd seems always to bring with it.
For Heath
Your life, sweet man, was a precious gift to the myriads you touched,
To all of us who cherish you and love you oh so much.
Your dear, sweet ways, your gentleness, your kindness knew no bounds,
Your brilliance and your beauty, they'd power to astound.
Consummate and gifted, beyond your years too wise,
Your heart, your mind, your very soul emanated from your eyes.
Your art brought joy into the world, it galvanized our hearts,
A gift to us I've treasured, right from the very start.
Your heady days of starting out...
I'm glad your life knew charm.
I pray you knew deep happiness,
And found a sense of calm.
I pray your heart of hearts rejoiced
In the blessings of your days,
And fathomed how much you were loved -
Much more than words can say.
Through jousting days and fairy tales,
Wyoming skies of blue,
Your life was blessed and touched by God
This, I know you knew.
In Gotham nights and sleepless times,
Your mind grew slowly jaded
I watched on broken-hearted
As your brown-green eyes, they faded.
Outwardly, you seemed forlorn, adrift upon an ocean
Of fearsome waves and undertows and darkening emotion.
But inwardly, I do have faith, that you remained unharmed...
The outside world could not seep through with Tilda in your arms.
In this, dear Heath, some small, small solace we can surely own,
To know that you had so much love, to know you weren't alone.
Thus we can reflect, sweet Heath, thus we can rejoice.
But how I miss your gorgeous smile, the cadence of your voice.
Although it pains me endlessly to know that you're not here,
I treasure what you've given us...that I hold so dear.
Indeed, our hearts are lifted now,
With a tender, graceful calm
To know that you're now dwelling
In the bliss of angels' arms.
-Rest, sweet one, be at peace-
