Thursday, January 29, 2009

Good Journey

Today your soul was lifted up and drawn by the rising sun.
A gentle, kind spirit. A little furry soul.
You’re gone.
During eighteen years we've shared a path, a house, a garden...
and the same spot on the sofa !
Oh, so precious tidbits of time and companionship.
Of joy.
I've loved you so.
I love you so.
However the Wheel has turned, it can only have turned in a good direction.
Sending you on your journey onward.
I grieve, even though I know it was time.
Even though I know you lived a good, long life.
Perhaps it is selfish of me.
No, it probably is.
You brought us all so much happiness.
Thank you.
My little one.
I love you, and so I could let you go.
It hurts, but it will get better.
I will remember you, so full of life and games.
So agile.
The terror of mice.
Climbing up trees.
Stealing chicken and turkey meaty bones you enjoyed eating under the table.
Lover of sardines and rabbit.
Talkative and so good at making yourself understood.
Your eyes sparkling with life.
Stealing up to the first floor of the house, which you knew you weren’t supposed to do.
Following us down the cellar because we weren’t quick enough to get your meal.
The long cat, stretching from floor to worktop in the kitchen.
Chasing after me in the garden for play.
Galloping and zooming past me before climbing up the pine trees and staring at me, your wide round eyes shining with mischief.
Waiting for me to scare your enemies away.
Always there.
Always close.
Your fur softer than a hatchling’s feathers.
A myriad memories hover in the air.
And them, I will not let go.
You’re here, woven to my heart.
Sleep well.
Rest before embarking on the new road waiting for you.
Good journey, my beloved Socrate.
My little one.
Good journey.
I love you.

Death reaps the beauty of the world
Bundles old crops to hasten new
Be still heart, hold peace.
Growing is better than decay.
I hear the blade which severs life from life.
Be still peace, hold heart.
Death is passing on,
The making way of life and time for life.
Hate dying and killing, not death.
Be still, heart, make no expostulation.
Hold peace, and grief, and be still.

(Poem by Stephen Donaldson - The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant)

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