Philosophy

The Book

I picked up your book,

left behind as a gift.

I thought how nice.

Now you have left,

and I think so nice I have the book .

I have the letter you wrote with such eloquent words,

full of philosophy and reason.

Now you are gone and the reason seems mute,

and the philosophy unfulfilled.

Combing my fingers over the checkmarks,

bringing me to attention to the tributes

you made to me, and us, and our friendship.

I feel you presence pour inside of me

and I know.

There is no book, no letter of reason,

no quote of philosophical works

that replace your having died without reason.

As the chickadee finds its nest,

among the prickly leaf—

The labored Mother sighs,

as birthing finds relief.

Then nature joins a chorus,

among the star they sing—

Humanity realized his birth,

of the resurrection King—

He came among the world,

in quiet winter’s rest—

chickadee without notice,

continues to make his nest—

Copyrighted: CMM 2001