Day 1141

What then is left

If the gold has all been struck

If the smirking chuckles are quieted

If the stools are left cold and unspun

If the gulags are quiet, the whisky left undrunk, the courtyards empty of screaming laughing debate, the neighbors wishing they could stay mad but knowing joy must always be cherished

(They learned that from you)

What then is left

If the songs, when strength is found to sing once more, are all sung unaccompanied, you no longer there in the back helping to find the right note

You not there to prepare

You not there to goad and mock

You not there to slight and spar and infuriate and then drain another glass

What then is left

With you not there

You with your contemplative compliments

The only one with a hat at a gala (thank the gods for that)

How dare you leave so fulfilled

What about the rest of the fools

What then can be done in the absence of heroes

But mocking wind

muddied conspiracy

And that nagging knowledge that you’d have done it better

What then is left

If you cannot answer another question?

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