Elegy to No Body

To me,
Just as spring, these are born anew
And make their mark; it can be
The budding of a new tree
Or
The breaths of newborns to the elderly.
But as it lives, it also dies,
And unlike the corporeal,
The proof of existence is bare.

This is not a tale of one death but many.
Death of no body, but the knowing
Of those who exist out of reach,
Met through a web of souls
Where every being can be joined
Through merriment and sadness and assembly.

The end of no people,
But the friendships once was,
Faded over time,
Faces were never known
And never will be,
Forgotten in the most human fashion.

Not real physically,
But as real as any.
A death with no funeral,
That cannot be mourned in full.

But to say a piece of my soul
Belongs to another who I have
Never known,
Never spoken to,
Never saw -
Do I earn the right to mourn
For the blurred line of truth?

In the way one mourns
The memories of a childhood
Which has grown and left,
Or
In the way one mourns
The disappearance of a pet
A faithful companion, departed
Or
In the way one mourns
The passage of time
That takes people down different paths.

In this way,
I do.

The string does not exist,
But it does exist nonetheless,
As it does with every tie cut
Now forgotten, but not forgotten.

Laughter;
the solace in each other
when there was none.
Tears;
weeping into air
when nothing else could hold.
Fear;
sharing the worry
of being forever alone.
Love;
to love, love, love,
in a world where it lacked.

This is not a tale of one death but many.
Deaths that pop from history
and aren’t easily renewed.
It’s easy to disappear,
leaving no chance to lament,
but rather scattered memories
and a yearn to have them back.
Some good, some bad,
but all Real
To me.