The 663rd night.

Six hundred and sixty three sunrises have risen on this emptiness.

Six hundred and sixty three sunsets since your last breath.
I wait for nothing, for no one.
I don’t need to live and I don’t need to die.
Each moment is what it is, lacking you.

I will never see you again.

Son, I put your ashes in the creek, in the river, in the ocean.
I put your ashes in the air, across the face of this earth,
And some sit still in this house where you will never return.

I count the days since you left,
And I write the number somewhere on my body,
On my flesh.
I wash away one number and I add the next one,
One digit higher than the number before.

I will never hold you again. My son.

Days and nights pass in this emptiness.
I wear my grief like a crown; I am the king
In this empty place, my reign will be a long one.

Six hundred and sixty three sunrises have risen on this emptiness.
Six hundred and sixty three sunsets since your last breath.

I will never see you again.

---

That I might awaken to the blessing of knowing my own true nature, and that I might be able to use this knowledge to help others and to help the planet. 

---

The 663rd night. Clear sky.

And stars? Endless. Uncountable.

A waning moon. Cold.

Beautiful beyond words.

Oh, how I wish my son was still here

To share it.

---

Kindness brings a special goodness to both the person giving and the person receiving. 

---

Cold gray 

Winter day

The world is lovely

Anyway 

James Lee Jobe 

John Lee Hooker - Hard Times

I don't think about time. You're here when you're here. I think about today, staying in tune. 

John Lee Hooker

---

Freeing oneself from words is liberation. 

Bodhidharma

Note: On the poems that the length of time since my son died, it's a lot longer than 663 days. It's well over 2700 days, really. I just do more revisions as time goes. 

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James