B

I'm angry at his death
For all the wrong reasons, I guess;
At 3 no one should have to leave
How do their parents grieve?

He did not deserve to go
And me; I'm angry I had to know.
And guilt; that I'd rather look away
And deny such things happen;

And fear; that it could have been
My child. The innocents.
I shudder. There are no words.

No proper ones, anyway.

And so, I'm given away. 
Only emptiness remains,

And for me my selfish anger
And for them their gaping pain.

on earth as in heaven

one thought keeps coming back:

that though we're like ants,

crushed at any time,

our love for someone,

our love fragile,

scatters back light

from eternal sunshine;

that however futile

our hopes for our lives,

one thing remains,

and cannot be taken back

from the imprints of time:

we have loved.

unexpected guest

hope, you have a way of turning up uninvited

just when I was settled for the night

with trusty despair by my side

against reason I'm drawn to a contrarian Jew

what better conspiracy than to further His rule

Orual

[deleted]

As an offering to You,
And for the healing
Of an innocent bystander
I delete my selfish,

If human, complaint,
And so commit it
To the dustbin;
Whatever may be its merits.

You, and you alone know
The troubles of my soul
And can repair what 
Human hands cannot.

You forgive my pain and anger
As I forgive those whom I bear.

Death

Time and time again

The dread of curtain fall returns

Where space and time alike,

Like sand flows out of hand

With no means to retrieve,

Til suddenly:

You are no more.

Never will you wake again

Through all eons of time;

While stars and universe itself

Explodes in cosmic fire,

There is nothing, less than blank

Going through your mind;

Which anyway, is no more.

It is dreadful to contemplate such a thing.

So you can try to ignore it

And see fear resurface

In various wicked ways;

Or, like eastern sage,

Make peace with your journey

To nothingness;

Or, be like a child -- but not a fool! --

And pass through eye

Of needle with true faith

Via the Way, the Truth and the Life

And somehow defeat

Such inevitable, terrifying fate,

From which none escape.

Interests

The forms asks about conflicts of interest;
Year, by year, I reply, ruefully: none.
Then, at last, you ask to be my partner
And I answer: yes!

Aims, Methods, Results and Conclusions

Who is to blame
When at night you aim
And the floor is covered in piss?