You had always lived like the time to sagely compose your
real message was still to come
But actually you’ve gone off quite silently now, and it
seems likely, into eternal emptiness
You felt you waited patiently, still ready to make your
statement or to take some real action
Now, it’s hard for others to really know if you were the
silent type, or just another empty shell
Gone off in silence but not without leaving a wide trail of
random noise and messy litter
As far as we can tell, the space you leave behind still
unsullied by any conscious reflection
Your blurry recollections, sloppily stored, simply
evaporate, unsorted and un-distilled
That is, finished but not summarized, finalized but not
completed, gone but not packed up
Went away unprepared, unwilling and unable to form even a
short and sensible goodbye
Borne off, you thought, before your time, with yet so much
you had never even started
Carried off of the couch to the hospital, then to the
cemetery without even a decent interval
You raised your hand far too late, buried without even
having thought out a real question
Gone beyond our limited communications even should you find
your true voice at last
We will label it a so-called mute testimony and say it was
really all you planned on leaving
Caught off-guard and carried away in silence, or did you
actually have nothing at all to say?
Hey! Nobody could ever read the beautiful thoughts that may
have existed, but only in your head
You have departed, having tacitly accepted things as they
were going, and are going further still
Now you have left it to us impute your beliefs merely from
your mundane habits
We can’t know your brilliance and grand emotions from your
so very ordinary life
Though your soul may have been filled to bursting, it has
all evaporated, without any residue
Your wondrous family surrounds you now, but you call each
one by a different name
With the drugs, you cannot realize that they know you’ve
already gone off in silence
The past is closing in around you because you can no longer
process the present
Though your greatest works still await you, there is only a
future that you will not experience
Yet, there still are those many things you would have, could
have, and, likely, should have done
In your mind, you kept reserved the future for those special
tasks that you were born to do
But the short time you paused was confused by a drugged
pain, in impersonal surroundings
The last thing you read was another bill and the last thing
you wrote was a check
You did not plan on your self-numbing repetitions halting
without some decent interlude
There was only time to cap off your life with a short period
of deliriously painful suffering
Torn away so quickly and completely with barely time for the
briefest of regrets
Gone off in a silence that we can only try to
differentiate from a simple & mindless emptiness