Galactic
Pain heals, chicks dig scars, Freeones lasts forever
......to a member of my family who has made the journey, crossed over, and is rocking away with those who have passed before. There will be no serenades. No twenty one gun salute. No massive parade full of fake weepers and women clutching their suckling children to their breasts. Right now, at this moment, there is me, raising a glass to another fallen soul, one who speeds on wings of light, freedom, bliss, release.
Unshackled from this mortal chain, this coil that wraps around us all, enslaving us in one form or another, some fashion to bend and make us bid its doing. But for him, now, at this lonely hour in the night, he has been set free, where pain and anguish can no longer seep into every crevice, every nook, make one wonder where God has gone, if He indeed exists (the fucking shitbag). As the night birds sing, I lift my glass, and honor him for the fantastically grueling work he performed so others might enjoy comfort, harder work than you or I have ever dreamed of doing day after day.
Speed on, my brother of the cosmos, past the icey tipped comets that whirl by unknown planets, past rocks and dust of eons long since forgotten, past the dying embers of a star, past the screaming birth of a new one......speed on into depths of space no man will ever see with his own eyes, but you, you, oh fearless traveler of time and space, you breathe it deep, let the light and cosmic waste flow through your spirit, fill your soul with what you seeked, and may or may not have found, and have it explode hence into the abyss, and let them know you are coming.
Speed on, and one day, we will meet.
Unshackled from this mortal chain, this coil that wraps around us all, enslaving us in one form or another, some fashion to bend and make us bid its doing. But for him, now, at this lonely hour in the night, he has been set free, where pain and anguish can no longer seep into every crevice, every nook, make one wonder where God has gone, if He indeed exists (the fucking shitbag). As the night birds sing, I lift my glass, and honor him for the fantastically grueling work he performed so others might enjoy comfort, harder work than you or I have ever dreamed of doing day after day.
Speed on, my brother of the cosmos, past the icey tipped comets that whirl by unknown planets, past rocks and dust of eons long since forgotten, past the dying embers of a star, past the screaming birth of a new one......speed on into depths of space no man will ever see with his own eyes, but you, you, oh fearless traveler of time and space, you breathe it deep, let the light and cosmic waste flow through your spirit, fill your soul with what you seeked, and may or may not have found, and have it explode hence into the abyss, and let them know you are coming.
Speed on, and one day, we will meet.
