What does one do on the birthday of the departed?

Visit matted grass beds. Pick decaying flowers.

Set the wise stone between the marker and the earth.

Significant of somber reverance.

Heart is drowning under pressure, tension of torment.

Her eyes, heavy, cascade more tears like slow raindrops down milky glass,

blurring optical fractals of bent light into vision.

Is there one who sees nurturing she cannot see?

One who can offer what she needs?

Where are her archetypes? Who’s archetype is she?

So fearful, hesitant of opening up, being wrong,

doing inappropriate, speaking out of place…

Correct to seek reassurance?

Feels like no hope of progression.

Aching stagnancy, restrictive stillness.

Sees she limits herself, but knows not the way out of injured intelligence.

Why is Her blessing unrecognized?

So sorrowful to her heart ; many could benefit if a leader were wise.

Yet, still, bleak pervasiveness: drear and gloomy on a vibrant day; sunshine–wasted.

Is her melancholy palpitating echo felt in the hearts of men?

Weakness abounding fragile essence arms.

Frailty, vulnerable, destitution of purpose.

Meandering, wandering soul is she of excruciating loneliness.

Yearning for an end with no more pages…

Hope of love –now amputated,

depravity stricken arteries of anguished moans unceasing;

her release of profuse agony in barren sectors of love reciprocal,

unknown compatible caring.

Return her soul into the hands of the Lifeforce Giver.


Happy Birthday

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