Let the Mystery Be

David Moore

   

It seems we never get enough

attention from all our friends

We seek to play, everyday

in the vain hope it never ends

 

As writers we are a vain bunch

never satisfied with ourselves

Making wonders, of life’s blunders

that will then sit upon our shelves

 

From each of the great poets here

we search for that kindly spirit

Seeking such proof, tempered by truth

In hopes we can stand to hear it

 

We all seek the purpose of life

through our friends we each spread our wings

With each letter, we get better

from that comes the joy writing brings

There will be a wonderful bar

for all the friends that we once knew

Where all will gather, tip our hats

for the poet whose heart was true

 

Friends will die and leave us alone

with those things of life we can’t see

Though I know well, he'll never tell

I think I’ll let the mystery be

Author's Note

David Moore the man who selflessly helped me publish my books and renewed my faith in Humanity passed away from cancer today. "You were a truly good soul David" This hurts, bad. I had so hoped for a different outcome for you. May we one day meet on the other side.
Goodnight my friend. .

Reviews

[Dayran]

The loss of a friend reminds us of the nature of the temporal. But our memories hold them together in eternity.

[Echo Nightfield]

All one can do after losing a friend is remember in their heart and mind. I can still hear little snide comments certain friends of mine would say about random things in day to day life, and then replies of all my other friends. Before I know it I'm feeling homesick, heart sick and missing every one of my friends here on earth and those who have flown off to heaven.

Thank you for this poem, emotions here are subtle and reflective but still strong.

[Stacey Watts]

Such a thought provoking piece. A very nice way to express the feelings of loss and staying humble in who you are.. excellent work.

[David Lewis Paget]

It's always hard to lose a friend, a companion, a family member. It brings our own mortality closer, makes us reflect on the impermanence of things. But there's not much we can do about it after all, death is built in to the system, and we are part of the system. We can only be thankful for the memories left behind, and try to carry on as before, because dwelling on it just brings depression. Easier said than done, I know. Losing my father was the worst day of my life, and a little of me died too that day. But here I am, 26 years later, still plodding along, still missing him, and trying to do what would make him proud. Perhaps you should also do the same, Tate.

[N!LoC]

(so touched).... :-)

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Yet another lovely tribute from your soul Tate. I have never felt such genuine caring on here other than in your words. Beautiful.

[.]

I am sorry for your loss,Tate.

[Veronica Chandler]

Mike has the light of 10,000 Christmas trees beaming from his joyous face, and he seems the sort of fellow who cares with the care of 10,000 angels. I see the face of a man who would give you his last dime and ask if you have need of his coat too. Your ache is palpable, and I can now see why. I have heard of a culture who looks at life and death differently; they celebrate a person's death for they have been released from the earthly bounds, and they mourn the birth of a child who has a world of hurt ahead of them. This write feels deeply, reads sweetly, and while somber is a celebration too.