I knew him well;

friend and foe,

accomplice to my shadow.

The devil on my shoulder

and at times upon the other,

an angel,

whenever the mood struck him.


A wanderer,

in mind,

when he was stationed.


of the finer things.

Who would think

that he had come

from nothing,

and nowhere,

to touch everyone?


A lost soul;



and gone again.

Not something

that anyone could hold;

at least,

not for any kind of duration.

Like fire,

or ice;

he could burn.


When he was gone

we would mourn his absence.

When present,

it was like he wasn’t there.

Kind of like a ghost

among the living.

Some say,

that he could die

and wouldn’t care.

I don’t think that’s far off.


Some people

when they open up,

you see them

for who they really are;

a bunch of places,


and experiences

that shape them

into what they become.



and amongst the most rare,

are open all the time.

Looking inside them,

is like looking at the sky at night.

At first you see nothing,

then you start to see

the universe.


HG – 2019


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