Souls of the Damned

They say souls of the damned walk the earth still. I must confess my belief, for I am here and walk the earth still.

A Sound of Thunder

Steel gray skies settle over a brown brittle earth, weighty like lead blankets, pinning us there, smothering us all.

David died today.

His final slumber disturbed, the used, inflatable mattress on the floor no longer a comfort for his world-weary frame, he rose up for a brief instant, then fell to earth with a sound of thunder. Yet, no one heard. There was no one there for him, not the stranger whose house this was, not a loved one or friend to be found. No Angels knew or walked nearby. He rose alone and fell to earth again, alone. Utterly dead and utterly alone he lay there.

How did he fall from the grace of riches? How did his race to death elude our vision? Did we not see? Oh, yes, we saw. We saw the Dutchess strutting in. We saw her Dragons among the clouds. We saw it all, but we did nothing. We did nothing.

Well, there was the talk. The Talk, the talk, always the talk....David, why are you doing this? David, why? Don't you love? Don't you care? Don't you know? Talk? Oh, yes, we talked, but the words fell from useless red lips without making a sound. The words were utterly alone, wingless. They rose alone and fell to earth again, alone.

Maybe if we had come at it differently…thinking more of us then of him…finding some way to reach the aloneness, the failures.

David died today.

Was he truly a brilliant, wondrous man? A Chimneysweep from Wall Street. His winged embrace spanned the towering riches from sea to shinning sea. From rich and safe to the homeless' resting retreats of the barren streets.

Do you know who he was?
Do you remember him, God?
Can you still see him?
Does his life matter to You, now?
What say you, God?
What say you to all of this?

What use of gods with a sound of thunder.

David Kellogg died today.

And for this I cry.