*The true birth of a person takes place when the spirit takes over - not thoughts, not ideas, but spirit - when prejudices fall like dry fruit under the wind of liberty, because mental attachments are mortal than those of the flesh.
-Jean Sulivan


*Death does not always come just a the end of life.  There are a great many living dead among us, people who exist only as part of the crowd, content with merely being on stage in the theater of the world.  Those who have not awakened, who have become rigid in their values and principles, vises or virtues, who are intent on making themselves believed, have betrayed their baptismal names, even though they pose as venerable defenders of the good, the honored, and the blessed.  They have not yet been born. People are born only at the moment they come to terms with spiritual liberty.
-Jean Sulivan

he

he was like a moonless midnight

something to be stared into

until ones eyes formed a familiar something

a face one knew

an aura-producing body

lit like a voice once dead

standing silently like the night

bearing a light beyond the mist

he was like a prehistoric creature

some Madagascan bug moist and light

dancing on a green path of moss

love-making without a mask

yet close to death

perhaps

it would be safe to dance like him

touching the earth

as if it were the only home we knew

or cared to know

with divinity near

he bore into the darkness

the face of fear

the face of flight

the face of terror and shouted

stand fast

this too shall pass

then laughed thunder into the sky

and rained down tears

to flush away the fears

he was an epiphanic magus

drawing night into the embrace of day

playing with darkness

repeating the sounds of children at play

he is the revelation of Silence

his story weaving within our own