I can't believe or understand
that I'll never see you again.
That you're just not somewhere else in this world but truly lost.
and the times we had and that I remember,
all the photographs and memories are all that's left for us, or me really,
and there won't be anymore.
all you could ever do has been done
and all you can ever be is gone.
and there was a time I touched you for the last time but didn't know it,
a time I saw you for the last time and didn't realize,
and I wonder who else I'll be touching and seeing today and will be lost for the rest of my life.
because people come and people go and then return or stay lost and you don't know which until they return if they ever do.
and you don't realize or just forget until you see them again and find out they are not dead,
but why would they be dead?
but why should they be alive?
and everyone who exists does so somewhere in the world or in time in the universe, and this is december 28, 2004 at 1:21 pm eastern standard time, and that moment exists in creation, and we are all living and members of this world and this life and this moment of time, so that years from now, when your kids are studying some history book that talks about 2004, there exists an exact history, an exact reality of everything that occurred in that moment of time, and we were there, and we made up that world, and we were all real, and we all existed, and we'll all be dead, but we will still have existed in that time. the world class of 2004, as it were. and I think about my mother and my father and their mothers and fathers and the fathers and mothers of people I know and all the things they were doing and that's what made up the world, so that when I talk about 1969 and I would create fictions in that year, it's all fake, because there was a real 1969, and it exists in time as a perfect diamond of sorts, and there was a real thing that happened there, and all simultaneously, and it doesn't matter, since you're still dead and gone, and I don't know where you went.
because I don't know why we're alive or what it is to die, or why we even exist, or why there is even an existence of existence or creation of creation. so if it's all just black when we're gone and there's nothing else, what were we and why did we exist? what is this fabric of reality which makes up our lives and where is the world and through what does it spin and the stars revolve and on what plane of conception exists the universe, since even if we're nothing and just walking brain chemical reactions with delusions of grandeur, the world and the universe and the cosmos still exist, but why does it? can it possibly be just because it should be? does it exist just because it does?
but even if so, that still does not explain where it is.
all around us, you might say, but where is that, that "around us" where it is? in what darkness or brightness, in what figment or plane, in what space of what's creation? and wherever that place might be, that phantom stage the size of existence where is producted this play of reality, where does it occur, and up and up? and if it is infinitely just some small speck in someone else's heaven, where does that heaven exist, and where is it? or is god just someone else's creation, wondering what the point of it all is and why he does and where he is? or is there ever an end, a final master of creation to whom we are all responsible?
and it all still doesn't matter, because I can't do anything about any of it, and I'm still here and you're still dead and I don't know where you went. All I really know is that you're gone and i'll never see you again.
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