Everything is connected, each word, each leaf. Each poem, drawn and held together by them threaad of our own experience, and the longing of our own Soul to follow the vine back to its root.~John Millar♥ I was in a classroom of life. The lesson began and I made an effort to pay attention.
I began to feel something odd from the side where he sat, an emptiness or coolness
or something similar as though the seat next to me had suddenly became vacant .
When the feeling became opressive I turned to look.
there I saw my friend sitting upright his shoulders braced back as
usual. Nonetheless, he looked completely different and something
emanated from him, something surrounded him that was unkkown to me.
I first thought he had his eyes closed but then saw they were open yet they were not focused
on anything it was an unseen gaze - they seemed transfixed with looking inward
or into a great distance. he sat there completely motionless,
not even seeming to breathe; His mouth might have been carved from wood or stone.
His face was pale, uniformly pale likes a stone and his brown hair was the part of
him that seemed closest to being alive. His Hands lay before him
life less and still as objects like stones or fruit , pale motionless yet not limp
but like good strong pods sheathing a hidden, vigorous life.