A favorite poem is tough. Not quite a poem, but Shakespeare's: Reading this, the quote sometimes attributed to Charles de Gaulle: Yeah, I think this kind of stuff comes to mind more and more as time passes. Great piece.
That sticks with me, and comes to mind from time to time. Hour by hour we ripe and ripe
And hour by hour we rot and rot
And thereby hangs a tale
came to mind. Eventually, we are lost. Just like those we've lost. Not only do we have no choice, we don't even get to pick the timing. The cemeteries are full of indispensable men.
It seems my light example of loss is serving to raise all the heavier issues related, which was what I'd hoped would happen on some level, but wasn't sure it would succeed. To seem to discuss lightness while discussing heaviness is exactly my preferred brand of sleight of hand. I've been pursuing the theme in more grave, head on ways, and this tack may be the most effective yet. We'll see. Anyway, really glad you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading, and for your responses.