John David Knell, June 5, 1945 - November 28, 2010
When I was young, and he was younger still,
he sat beside me and I told him tales
of Gabby and Uncle Moo. His cousins, too,
were there, all near an age. And now he’s gone
at three score years and five. But here am I,
still sitting on that couch and yarning tales,
singing songs that make but little sense.
One’s reason stumbles and the future fails
to hold itself together. There is no plan
that comes to mind; there is no scheme or will
imposed upon the chaos of the world,
and who can understand why anything
at all exists — why is the Universe
expanding into Nothingness? Why sing
about Existence when Order is a sham
that cannot be imposed upon one’s life,
much less this singularity in space
surrounding us?
My nephew John is gone
Because a vessel in his brain burst forth
today in a symphony of blood.
Goodbye,
dear John. Your uncle says farewell to you
and wishes we still sat upon our couch
where I would spin a better tale than this.
See “John’s Telescope” and “John’s Microscope” elsewhere on this blog.
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