resonance of compassion

dearest rabbit lady,
i wish i could be there. i am here, as much as i can be, and at least that much is real. as my resonance with you is also real sharp pain, ice pick through the heart. no. hearts. when his heart stopped, yours dropped. when yours dropped, mine bucked.

a great chain of arrhythmia.
if we listened to the track,
it would say 'tempo tragico'
in stark dark key of a minor.

the news- it was due at certain point, as we tasted it so sharply being so far away from the east coast. the small detail being that it would be devastating, regardless of the timing. i was hoping that it would have been extended just a little further longer, though i dont exactly know what the delay would have provided, except- perhaps just a little more time.

your loss is not just yours. but mine. ours. i am a friend of yours, it is a personal loss. as my friendship towards you is unlimited, your loss also resonates in real sense, physically and emotionally. space is only one determinant of my reality. with other variables- with friendship, humanism, time, etc., i am sheepishly claiming a very small part of your suffering, however with courage, trusting that you would let me have such personal bits, of you.

death may be terminal. or may not be. all i know is that i can only live through the present. i would never know all the details of your story, but it's not important as my aim of the moment is to love you, dear friend, as much as i can. because it is a human thing to do. the end may be undefined, but present can be defined. sharply and honestly. and i may say that my capacity of being a friend is all yours at this temporary suffering. i dare say temporary since all of us- i dont even exactly know who all i am exactly referring to but that is not even important, will do our very individual best to mend your heart. loss is a human condition. let us, the social animals, deal with it as we should.

i also have lost people in my life, not through human activities but through uncontrollable variables, such as death. and though powerless, one becomes immensely strong through the process. such loss is not an easy one to pass off, as one is dealing with real, progressing-forward time and the polar opposite of stalemate. gridlock of a life against the grains of time. brutal. passionate and true. and every time, it killed a bit of me. the empty holes, like the holes those termites leave on the tress sometimes, intricately connected, were filled only by the others over time. i was a lucky tree who live to see my life, as those little holes either became part of me, or was kindly filled and treated by others. generosity? may be. humanism? yes.

i wish i could offer you a cup of the market spice tea. i wish we could stay in the human bond, who cares about what time it is. the time is now and here.

i send you an embrace with sprinkles of blue tinted sadness. i suffer, or really, i chose to suffer because i am a friend of yours. all channels active, picking up every little bits i could, melting them into tears. to fuel the great engine called collective present. i hope you are asleep, if a bit tear stained. i will do the staying up part. 3am. 3rd night of returned urban insomniac. i can do that. i will be at the head of your bed, locked in gaze, so that i may do a few things that i could do as a friend. a close friend, if you would so generously let me.

im fairly fatigued and my eyes are blurry. tomorrow, another day of taking-mother-to-doctors kind of day. it wont even matter what i will be doing, as it will always change, never still. i just hope that i will get through the day with a great reservoir of love and hope, for you dear rabbit lady.

you, be well (in that particular monkey intonation and gestures, a bit sill, a bit too vulnerable, just enough reality) and perhaps take a small comfort in fact we, the small stars scattered across broad sky, still make a beautiful representations of myth, life, creativity and being a simple human. we are all connected. and we love you.

i love you,
in this difficult time,
as much as a friend can muster,

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