Poetry by Paul
When I'm gone, I remember all the turning trees and leaves.
So I stop there, and take a breath and feel the morning breeze.
And I think about where I am today and who I want to be.
So I can take the many winding steps to create a better me.
When there is no good reason to walk, you must walk anyway. There is no replacement for aim or reason but the freedom from the claustrophobic interior will always provide a fresh view on recent thefts of memory. Time passes slowly, and it's your job as an individual to make sure that you take care of yourself in every aspect of health. Finding space and air away from societal action packed with insensitivities aids that process. Take a walk and you will find yourself right where you need to be. Similar to demanding clarification from a drowning child, statements and questions have no benefit when aimed at the mentally broken. No words need to be spoken; however empathetic actions greatly impact the improvement of mental health on a degree incomprehensive to the viewer. The mental state of an individual does not exist as a specimen to be poked and prodded by untrustworthy bystanders but loved and cared for as an friend or relative. Understand that the complex shell of the disturbed is just like yours and you must care for it as your own. Only then can you understand how to love.
Scorched Memory
When one chooses to close his eyes for the last time, and enters the realm unknown to all and feared by many, he does not depart for an extended period. He may exist always and forever through those whom he loved and those who loved him.
The actions and words he produced will forever and always belong solely to him and credited to no other. For just because the container in which he lived no longer is present, his memory refuses to bid farewell to the world and persists to exist in the infinite positivity of the minds of whom he touched.
His palms lay across his chest as he is inserted into the earth on which he roamed but they extend outward to the beholder in a gesture of peace and love that pierces the mind like a dagger of conscious thought and perception. The mark that he who is buried leaves scorched into the psyche of his victims will never heal and will remain not as a symbol of pain and sorrow, but of joy and remembrance to the time he spent wandering, considering lessons untaught and theories unwritten.
Do not miss his physical presence, appreciate his soul. Do not miss his mind, for now he lives through you. And through you he may never be forgotten. He has closed his eyes but through you he may see the light of life once again.