Disclaimer: I don't own Duncan. I'm borrowing him 
for this. 

<fortuita@hotmail.com> for feedback

A Price Worth Living By 
By Fortuita James

I seek but You are gone, 
Gone from all men, all women, from this stone. 
I find You nowhere. Now I am alone.

I am alone with all mankind's distress 
hich You could help me heal - it was my promise. 
You who are not - Your silence my disgrace!

Then, people said, an Angel from the skies -

There was no Angel. 	
	From The Garden of Olives, Rainer Maria Rilke

I stare at the rain. It is filled with figures, moving 
through, around, under, but I hardly see them. Only 
the rain. Something I knew, with which I was familiar. 
I can trace the rain to the past, to times lost to it. 
And lose myself a little, hardly seeing the figures 
around me. Until, with a final desperation, I will once 
again venture among them, try to help, right, alter. 
Unable to do so.  And occasionally, I laugh, almost. 
Smile. Not bitterly, nor with regret. Too many rains 
have fallen. But without an edge of real humour. And 
imagine someone else was here beside me. Or instead of 
me. Someone who could live in this new world, alone 
world. Who could live in any world.  But expectation of 
something, a way to change it, led you to depart. An 
edge of my mind entering you, you sacrificed self, 
releasing your long, long life uncollected, wasted into 
the ground. Because you thought I could change, alter, 
could live in this new world. Alone, alone world.

***