When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.
When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken.Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.
Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance, fall away.
We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves.
And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.We can be. Be and bebetter. For they existed.