I wrote this one in the summer of 2005. It’s even more angsty than Searching for Control. It was prompted by the death of a man I deeply admire. Possibly one of the greatest people to ever have offered advice to students. I am speaking, of course, of Albus Dumbledore, headmaster, advisor and friend to Harry Potter. I cried a lot while reading both his death scene and his funeral scene. And when I ran out of book to read, I ended up writing this poem.


Sweet samples of pomegranate
Float behind my eyes
Scattered drops of ruby juice made solid
Some goddess’s tears preserved
Why did she cry?
Death is such a trivial thing
Every day a thousand creatures’ deaths
Mean nothing
And another thousand
Mean everything
A thousand tiny instants
We cannot even see
Controlling our futures
Even the greatest
Become mere corpses in time
Our cities will fall as stones
Our bodies will fall as bones
And our words will swirl away as dust
Collecting on our souls

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