Friday, October 2, 2020
When great souls die,the air around us becomes light, rare,sterile. We breathe, briefly see with hurtful clarity.Our memory suddenly sharpens examines ,gnaws on kind words unsaid and promised walks never taken.
Great souls dies and our reality bound to them, takes leaves of us .Our souls dependent upon their nuture ,now shrinks,wizened our minds,formed and informed by their radiance fall away.
We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark cold caves .
And when a great soul dies, after a period of peace blooms slowly and always irregular spaces fill with kind soothing electric vibration. Our senses restored ,never to be the same ,whisper to us .They existed they existed
We can be and be better for they existed .
By Maya Angelo
David and Jerry my prayers are for you all from Margaret and family