DEATH OF…

THAT NIGHT I FELT THAT OUR SOULS
HAD BEEN FORCIBLY SEPARATED FROM COMFORT
WITH THE NEWS, AND LIFE WAS PURPOSELESS,
THOUGH MEANINGFUL IN DESIRE TO CONTINUE
WHATEVER ASPIRATIONS WERE LEFT, NOT DREAMS
BUT SOMETHING SOLID AND FIRM AND DISTINCT,
MELODIES SHATTERING THE SILENCE AS HIS CREATIONS
BEGAN TO EMERGE FROM AN UNCONDITIONAL LOVE,
GRASPING, STEALING A FAMILY OF EMOTIONS,
AND WHILE IT HAD BEEN PURE ENTERTAINMENT
TO LISTENERS FROM THE OUTSIDE, FOR SIXTEEN YEARS
I AMONGST SELECT FEW PARTICIPATED IN LIVING
BY PLACING INK WITHIN THE NOTEBOOKS,
VOCALS ON BEATS, TOO, AND WITH HIM GONE
THE MUSIC THAT IGNITED SO MANY INTO
PERFORMANCE, NO LONGER COULD BE PRODUCED.