Every death  that cross our way, my friend,

 turns  some of our roots to dust

Every face we love,

 strengthens our love for life

Every face whose features wane

 is a growing thirst,

Every face that disappears

deprives our soil the promise of stable trust

eroding promises of our blooming dreams

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Why do we, then, assume that reality is assured?

In absence or existence?

The springs of being of all are dried when one is called back to none existence

Loved faces  disappear?

They pass away?

Nothing remain but nagging thorns  of loss

A dried up deserts of loneliness

They cease to exist?

 No they do not

They remain

Eternal in  in our hearts

Intimate whispers, the smell of Lavender fields,

Intimate throbs like memories

 of  thundering clouds

…

It is  we  who languish to non existence

Bypassed by the inability of clouds to rain.

As we lose the will

to pour the sumptuous blue

Desire of belongingness

Become the dust of

Souls in emptiness.