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.
Aficionado,
of the finer things.
Who would think
that he had come
from nothing,
and nowhere,
to touch everyone?
A lost soul;
losing,
found,
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,
emotions
and experiences
that shape them
into what they become.
Others;
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
