It started with Natalie Cole
then it was Lemmy
then it was the Tall Man
then it was David Bowie
then it was Alan Rickman.
before that it was Robin Williams.
before that it was Kirsty MacColl.
deaths that rocked me, gutted me and changed me.
Am I just too sensitive? Would I still give a damn if I wasn't?
Is it better to live in bliss but be torpid of mind or thin of desire?
Some days the choices seem to wobble.
would it be better to keep looking or decide on a bookend?
I'm getting past the point in my life where there are more stars dying
than there are new heroes being born.
I'm sort of torn.
I'm at the mouth of a bridge here.
I know it.
I'm seeing the end often enough to question my mistakes
I'm self critical enough to know I was made
to do something I'm not doing.
It wasn't enough to have my heart broken
or my spirit burnished but I'm still in it
for some stupid reason
I'm seeking
something.
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