the world has many faces;
greet a birth, meet a death.
the hand that once held you,
holds you again in the ether
you, a stripling, the perfect kid
senses keen; the smells, the sights!
traveled and saw, grew in love;
wisdom in the eyes of just a puppy
four years here, forever there
I think, my eyes sore.
caught memory off the air;
experience of one fyodor
of how it is to feel the light,
the same that shone in your eyes
everyday and every night
even in your lovely sleep
“for several moments,”
dostoevsky said,
“I would experience such joy
as would be inconceivable in ordinary life
such joy
that no one else could have any notion of. I would feel the most complete harmony in myself and in the whole world and this feeling was so strong and sweet that for a few seconds of such bliss I would give ten or more years of my life, even my whole life perhaps.”
