The world is teeming with the likes of us
while the stars are falling down all around
and the brightest of them all is now dead
as the blood has ceased to flow from his heart.
Memories, all too fresh and vivid still,
drown the plains of our woeful existence
with faces, sketched by a pen in the dreams,
some that taught us how to love or be loved,
some that told us how to leave and forget,
some that showed us how to live through a death.
Words, emotions curved on a page still green
and young are stirred back to life yet again
from some of his stories in black and white
and some that he chose to write on the reel.
Moments of joy in hearty laughter and
those tear drops shed that tasted briny and sad
in grief and delight engraved by his pen
are alive too in the wake of his loss.
For each letter that we read in our native tongue
our heart shall sing him love to teach us how to read.