Cerebral combustion

 
This is a photo of the car-free medieval city of Ghent in the fatherland of my favourite modern composer, Jacques Brel, and where I hope to be strolling along the canals in late autumn (November)for the Creativity World Forum.

To predict that I might explode from creative combustion is an understatement, because Ghent will be preceeded by a week of visiting technology geniusses in Silicon Valley, then on to the Ivy League Business Schools of Boston for a Post-Grad programme for Innovation Leaders from corporations all around the world. I am pinching myself as I am writing this because to visit Boston and its history of New World academic success has been an impossible dream - especially in those Zululand years that seem a millenium ago, though those were some of the toughest challenges an executive could ever face and we practised Innovation on the trot!

But as the saying goes: How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice man, practice! So it is with all dreams...keep at them! NEVER GIVE UP!

I will have a free weekend to take a drive down the America's Cup East Coast, Martha's Vineyard, perhaps enjoy a famous Cape Cod Clambake, then pop in to New York before flying to London where I will hook up with a friend from Sydney now working in Innovation there, then cross the channel to Ghent.

I'll be flying home via Hong Kong to deliver a presentation to the Masters students at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University. I think I will have enough cribnotes from the gurus by then to appear half-knowledgeable! For if there is one thing I know, the more you learn, the more you realise how much there is to know, and teaching others is a true test of mastery of any subject matter!

Any volunteers to babysit Cub2 for me while I'm away?  

Mermaid Tales...with evidence!

This is a story about a mermaid....several in fact. One still a guppy, one a puppy turned 12, and one a mummy....so old, that her mermaid tail had, unbeknown to her, become little more than a show tail, and when she needed to use it one fine day in the big blue Pacific Ocean, it was useless!
She flapped and spluttered, wriggled and wiggled, and all to no avail...her tail refused to support her, dressed in full mermaid regalia, modern mermaid artefacts like Blackberry and Digital camera in her breast pockets. (seeing it was a family-celebration, she had to cover her mermaid breasts!)
But, ever the classy mermaid that she is, she went DOWNUNDER, without getting her hair out of place or smudging her immaculate make-up, and splashing about just enough to float her torso above water to rescue her technology tools, her social life and her terra firma job as one Blackberry has already bitten the dust in less adventurous circumstances!
Ah....even though King Neptune didn't send a school of seahorses to save the old mermaid, she knows that the little mermaids would miss her if her tail fell off and she sank to the bottom of the big blue. They wept....and then took photos!

 

... See my Tabblo>

A happy story out of Rwanda

  
To think these beautiful peaceful mountains played witness to the most atrocious killings as the Hutu tribe slaughtered 800 000 Tsutsi people over 100 days in 1994- just like the rest of the world stood by and watched.

But...such is the spirit of Africa's people...they cling to hope, and hope is what makes us conquer the unimagineable.

Nothing was a more touching example of such hope than the story on the front page of today's Sydney Morning Herald. I can't repeat it all here, but someone could not dream this up...an example of how the truth can be so much more fantastic than our wildest hopes and dreams...

...that a man, beaten to a pulp and left for dead along with his 11 brothers and sisters and another 140 murdered family members, as his pregnant wife scrambled with a 3 year old toddler to escape the clutches of panga-wielding genocidal villains, could find one another 12 years later...2 continents and 2 hemispheres apart...and everything that they have endured inbetween including his incarceration in illegal immigrant centres for more than 10 years...that is a story that I will revisit everytime that I am even beginning to dwell on my own dramas.

It was a moment that demanded action. My action. I went from the coffeeshop where I read the paper to the computer, googled the Red Cross who assisted Damascene and his wife Jeanne to find one another through registries and the tireless work of wonderful compassionate people, and made a donation so they can help unite more in this situation. The earthquake victims in Pakistan. The Tsunami. The Middle East. The floods in Asia. The war in Sudan and Ethiopia. The ever-present food crisis in East Africa. The refugees that will still come. As our planet scorches.

My contribution felt hopelessly insignificant. But, thats not the way to think.

Its contributions like these that have made ALL THE DIFFERENCE to one family...and their story has brought a lot of happiness to my day!

God bless them that there will be nothing but happiness ahead.

Trading places: home exchange holiday?

   This photo was taken from my terrace at about 3 pm today and shows only a third of the 270 degree views across Sydney Harbour and the heads- entrance to the harbour. Temperature was about 25 degrees, and its officially still winter in Sydney!

Had my usual fantastic coffee with a friend at Bather's Pavillion on the esplanade, hugging a safe and sheltered beach- a 2 minute stroll from casa mia. Followed by a lazy read of weekend papers in the sun, and then hiked up the hill for a gentle workout, crossed the road to pick up a few things from the shopping centre offering everything from world-class delis to fantastic fresh produce, major supermarket, boutique wine store, plus trendy boulevards of designer shops, a great library and 3-level gym and aquatic centre. Strolled back home,then popped some champagne to watch the sun go down with some friends who dropped in on their way home from the beach!

Perhaps tonight Cub 2 and I will walk to one of 2 cinema complexes for a movie, or shall we rather get a dvd from one of the 3 local hire shops and pick up authentic Italian pizza or a Goan curry from Taste of India to dine in? Or, hop on the bus or harbour ferry and in 18 minutes, dine in the city or catch Turandot currently being performed at the Sydney Opera House?

The point of this real account of a day in the life of us is that I am looking to exchange this paradise for 2-4 weeks in Aspen, Colorado in March 07, or Tuscany, Dubrovnik, Prague or Provence in July 2007...or offer me an alternative? Bariloche in Argentina? Banff or Lake Louise is perfectly good too!

I will list on the international home exchange websites too, but hey...with a wide network of international friends and blog-mates, perhaps you know someone who knows someone who wants to do the same in reverse!

Contact me via "comments button"...it goes straight to my e-mail address, and I will be in touch.

La famiglia: Nella neve a Mont Hotham

Snow....that white magical crystal fluffy flakes of frozen water ...it simply brings out the child in us....as does flying above the mountains like an eagle.
No matter how expensive...its a great family holiday!

See my Tabblo>

12 years later...

 Around 3 o'clock tomorrow morning, it will be 12 years since my first cub was born...and changed my life forever.

As I page through my "paper blog" of that time, a fat & worn black journal, reading poems I wrote for my unborn baby since her 6-week fetal heart practically leapt off an ultrasound screen , through to cards from friends and flowers sent to the hospital...112 in all, to the sleep-deprived ramblings before mum and bub found a rhythm...the memories flood back like yesterday.

How I had planned it all...in exquisite detail...the birth, the breastfeeding, the little dresses, the fairy tales, the doll collection preserved for 35 years, the life I envisaged raising a little girl. How none of it went according to plan.

How we learn to adapt...quickly too...and how I love this child for who she is, not what was in my head. I marvel at discovering how she thinks and how her mind gets shaped. How I struggle some days to balance spirit with guidelines and boundaries.

We are so generously gifted with survival instinct and protection of the species skills (and thank God for GOOGLE some days too!)...and even 12 years on, those traits are as strong as ever...allowing nothing to threaten the wellbeing of our children. Moving countries if necessary, sacrificing personal love and happiness if there is a perceived conflict, going without so they can have.

She is far away today...at a school where I hope the emotional price of separation will pay handsome dividends some day...but I know tonight, probably this minute, she lies in her bed longing for her mummy's heartbeat...as I long to hold her in my arms, and sing "Hush lil baby, dontcha cry...mumma's gonna bake ya a chocolate cake".

Though she doesn't know it, her cake will be delivered tomorrow...in the form of a snow-capped mountain conquered by the snow-boarding queen! And next week, when she returns, a cruiser to take her and her mates fishing anywhere they want to go on Sydney Harbour.

So...more photos and memories and a print-out of this blog entry will go into the big fat black journal...to do the talking when I am no longer there...and remind her how special she was to her Mum. 

A cosy little nest

 Balmoral Castle is beginning to look more and more homely...the lounge suite finally arrived today after a 3 month wait but not without a moment of drama!

I am beginning to form a little prejudice here based on NUMEROUS experiences with delivery folks these past few months of to-ong and fro-ing and deliveries...and the prejudice is NOT against migrant labour. Those people have a great work ethic and are all too happy to help, to be in this beautiful country and earn an honest and decent living. No, I am afraid there is a different class of white trash...but let the facts speak for themselves.

I ordered the furniture from a somewhat upmarket boutique on the EXPRESS terms that I want an end-to-end service. NOT ANOTHER BUNNINGS BARBECUE STORY IN OTHER WORDS!

That means the product, which is modular in design for urban lifestyles (read: you must be able to carry it around steep and narrow staircases and doors), has to be delivered, assembled and all packaging removed as part of the deal...otherwise NO DEAL.

So, said white trash arrive with delivery today, and tell me..."Nah! Ugh-ugh...Nope! We don;t assemble...that's extra. The shop will charge you $100 for that, but if you pay us cash, we'll do it for $60."

Smelling a rat, I nodded calmly, and as they cart in 7 boxes, I ring the store to politely enquire how come my contract says assembly included but Boofhead here wants to charge me extra? Store confirms...assembly is paid and Boofhead is meant to assemble-without collecting an additional $60 in cash!

Well...testosterone explosion! Chief Boofhead starts cursing, tossing papers about and talking about being here till 3 am, phones the boss, complains, jiggles his toys and performs a melodrama for all of Mosman to hear-lasting roughly 10 minutes.

All of which came to naught. The store phoned the boss, the boss phoned him, and in less time than his Oscar-winning performance lasted, the entire thing was assembled.

I love putting corrupt jerks like that in their place. Consumer=1. Boofhead=0. 

Jungle laws

 
I always forget to say thanks for the e-mails, the compliments...and now and then the delightful debate as someone decides to take on the big pussycat! I love it.

I also receive many questions about "the Chocolate Guy"...laugh!...who would have thought he would stir so much imagination?

Sufferance

   Funniest quote of the day: Overheard at the Mudgee Food & Wine Fair: "The liver is EVIL, and MUST be punished!"

The Appetite of Wonder

 It starts in the womb...when our senses first perceive...and it ends as we exhale that last breath,even if we are a hundred...that sense of wonder, that yearning for learning.
For me, there is nothing as sweet as a new discovery...it doesnt have to be a world-first or unique, but when the clouds of confusion lifts for you as an individual, its no less grand than Columbus discovering the New World!

So it must be for history's scientific and mathematical geniuses...yet, to the masses, their work remains largely inaccessible and ignored because no-one can take the complex and decode it into simple everyday terms!

I am one of those masses, but ever so often, my universe inexplicably collides with another, and invariably, it opens a delicious new frontier and indescribable pleasure.

In keeping with an earlier analogy of seismology, I had a tectonic shift in my appreciation of the magic of maths this week. Its the most amazing discovery when one finally sees the pattern in things...to be exact, the maths. Its everywhere!

It all started with a picture that fascinated me...the picture was used as a logo for Seed Magazine (a favourite of mine), and designed by Jonathan Harris as an expression of the crossover between science and culture. That is the image posted here, with science represented by the ordered and precise image on the left, and culture by the image on the right that appears random, and the phylotaxis the central image.

Being the curious pussycat that I am, I simply had to find out more. So, phylotaxis led me to the Fibonacci Sequence, the Golden section, Newton's Laws of Determinism, and chaos theory.

But, what are the odds, that in two consecutive days, I would in completely random fashion (or is there in fact a chaotic pattern in the universe leading us to one another for some mysterious and unknown purpose?) meet firstly a Romanian Maths boffin ex CSIRO who is a fractals freak and so passionate about this subject that he would whizz around the beach pointing out the manifestation of this wondrous concept right there under our noses in the shape of shells and the branches of trees through to the replication of individual leaves...re-surfacing long-buried maths lessons from high school to dance like some wild gypsey music, lifting a veil into a new paradigm of understanding- as arousing and exciting as Armstrong's first step on the moon!

...and secondly, whilst attending a Masterclass of Regional Wine appreciation at the Mudgee Wine and Food Fair today, find myself sharing a table with two Americans on holidays Downunder, the one a Professor of Maths at UCLA and co-developer of a an alternative curriculum for high school Maths to teach children Maths by doing...by observing fractals through studying the fern that grows on the school wall or the broccoli they dont want to eat on their plate, or the algorithms used by Google to search the internet, or the deciphering of the human gnome sequence, or plotting the way the world feels today through systematically analysing 35 million blog postings on the internet every few minutes at wefeelfine.org.

...and so, a whole new world is discovered...I feel such a thrill! A lifetime of joy and new insights...like when I first read Richard Dawkins and "The Selfish Gene"...and the start of my interest in evolutionary biology, and what has become a bit of a passion ever since!

Dawkins, another good thing to come out of Africa (born Nairobi, Kenya 1941) is my equivalent of the male fantasy of some sex siren like Schiffer or Shakira.
(Laugh...yes, I have a bit of a thing for an enormous....errr ....pair of frontal lobes!It lasts a lot longer than a few minutes!)

Yes, this sexy man is inter alia, the Professor for Public Understanding of Science at Oxford University, where he has studied and taught for more than a quarter century.
Dawkins has been liberated from routine academic duties to fight full time for science, enlightenment, and plain common sense in a world where the forces of superstition and deliberate obscurantism prevail. Plainly, his job is to make science accessible to ordinary men and women, boys and girls, and I say there should be MUCH MORE OF IT!

The point is not to understand it all...but to be curious. Science runs the gamut from the tantalisingly surprising to the deeply strange, and ideas don't come any stranger than Quantum Mechanics. More than one physicist has said something like: "If you think you understand quantum theory, you don't understand quantum theory."

Needless to say, wine-tasting and quantum mechanics at the beach turned into a random lunch, and lunch turned into a looooo oooooooong afternoon with all ending up here at my chaotic castle for coffee and spirited discussions of self-replicating mathematical patterns in the greatest pieces of art our world has ever known...with the geniuses that produced them, Mozart, Bach, Da Vinci, Stradivarius and even Shakespeare...all applying these mathematical principles intuitively!"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music. ... I get most joy in life out of music."-Albert Einstein

I know I am a sick puppy...but notwithstanding my Epicurean passions, there simply is nothing as exquisite as multiple mental orgasms!

Give thanks for blessings

 1. Thanks for Cub1...she lives up to her name!
2. Thanks for Cub2- she is so much like me, we don't fight...much!
3. Thanks that I am not flying to America today!
4. Thanks that I live in a castle in heaven.
5. Thanks for work...it keeps me out of the shops!
6. Thanks for friends...they say if you have five, you are a rich person. I think I am rich.
7. Thanks for brains...if I have to choose between beauty, a great body and a magnificent brain, I just say thanks ...could have been zero out of three!
8. Thanks for family...come to think of it, I have more friends than family on this earth! And those i have are very far away.
9. Thanks for health...when I look at the stiff botox faces around me, I love my laughlines more and more and I know my self-esteem is intact too!
10. Thanks for freebies...good water, pure air, sunshine, peace.
11. Thanks for the beautiful man who makes my coffee every morning. He reminds me of the joys of being a woman
12. Thanks for my Crackberry. Its the extrovert's ultimate toy!
13. Thanks for my cat. He makes no demands and loves me flaws and all!
14. Thanks for everything I forgot and that I'm obviously taking for granted. 

Seismology

  (Refer previous post). Bloggie, your thoughts came back...one suggested "VERTIGO", inter alia, as a title...I thought that was interesting...but not an accurate descriptor of the emotions. Just proves how a picture communicates different things to different people?

No, the more appropriate caption would be: NOT SOLID AS A ROCK!

The world observes a MsMaverick...as a rock...a symbol of stability, calm, capable, alone, unwavering, strong. And so she is...ostensibly... mostly.

But, Mother Earth, when she overheats due to factors internal and external (yes, such as human activity),the built-up pressure has to go somewhere...radiating from that inner core outwards in seismic waves to escape where there is one tiny little crack...or forcing one open where none can be found..and so, rips apart mountains (see photo) so that once solid rocks crumble ...fall, gravitate to sea...sink! And then comes the tsunami.

Daily, Mother Earth experiences multiple small earthquakes that do not even cause a ripple, but there can be a multiplier effect...with each mini-quake triggering another and sometimes resulting in mega-quakes years later- with devastating effect.

Thank God humans aren't rocks. They are much stronger...they are NOT solid...they are soft...made of flesh...can absorb...bruise...tear...bleed...break... heal. They can flex...laugh...cry...get angry...punch back...go for a run...have a period...

But even so, every little quake, takes its toll. Creates tsunamis.

Every wound, big or small, even if healed, leaves a scar. An ts never as it was before.



 

Hang in there!

 Dear Bloggie ...when you feel the mountains are caving in on you, what do you suggest? (Other than HRT?)
Do let me know your thoughts?

Me
 

wah-wah, blah-blah.....but what a way to tell some stories!

   Behold the only monarch I have ever met...King Goodwill Zwelethini of Zululand, (in the traditional symbol of Zulu royalty, leopard, pictured next to King Mswati II of Swaziland)Believe me, the pomp and ceremony and shananigans are no less -in fact probably at least equal albeit in a totally different style-to those accorde British Royalty!

So what brought this post on? Nostalgia I guess. Have just returned from Swaziland in the 60's, by way of fine cinematography and acting in Wah-Wah, Richard E Grant's powerful portrayal of his own childhood in the final moments of British rule in Swaziland. We have a philandering bitch of a mother, desperate alcoholic father, confused boy, the "club" as the centre of society in all British outposts, the ever-pleasing servants, a flurry caused by a royal visit in aid of the transition to Swazi Independence (aside from the royal visit, a non-event for the expat community!) and a lot of French spoken in the poshest of English accents which doesn't make it sound like swearing at all- more like jolly good adjectives, my dear fellow!

I visited Swaziland on many occassions since the 60's,and its beautiful rolling hills, friendly people, social decadence and bubble-like economy jumped straight to the fore of my memory. In my twenties, Iconducted an audit of a large mill in the capital Mbabane, and stayed two weeks at the Royal Swazi Spa which by this time had lost its lustre as "Top Naughty" after new casinos in the erstwhile Black Homelands, like Sun City, in South Africa lured its decadent clientele and prostitutes away. It had returned to being a sleepy hollow, and everyone I met had the name Dlamini (descendant of the King). Hardly surprising since King Mswati annually holds a virgin parade to pick a new bride, and currently sports 21, which is still 59 shy of his father, King Sobuzo,the longest reigning monarch, who had 81 wives at the time of his death.

So, obviously when in Rome, do as the Romans do, and what a jolly fine time was had by all those expat Britons in them good old days!

Now, in stark contrast, Ten Canoes, (see link as per yesterday's blog), paints a very very very different picture. A tale about family, community, honour, harmony and living by what was unwritten but widely understood laws for civil harmony. Though shalt not covet they neighbour's wife! What a fantastic piece of work and a wonderful opportunity for us to get a glimpse into an ancient culture, its values and tradition of upholding them to this day, through story-telling. There should be more of it...LOTS MORE!

I would be a terrible film critic, and I am not trying to be that...but for what its worth, I loved both these movies that dealt with the history and cultures of both my former home in Southern Africa, as well as my new home Australia.

I think I will definitely be in the dreamtime tonight...Go see it.

DREAMS ARE GOOD FRIENDS...so sings Vicky Leandros

   Its a well-worn cliche that there are only 24 hours in a day, and 7 days in a week...but when out of the blue, you get a little "pasella" (African language for a much-prized bonus/ freebie!)in the form of a Bank Holiday when you don't even work in a bank...well, you can have a little meltdown just thinking about all the things you could do with it!

I have been contemplating it for days...and finally it came together! I shall declare this little "pasella" a "Family Festival". Seeing I don't let the girls throw sickies (since they started school, between the two they have not missed even 4 days of school), I am going to claim a day back for "brownie points" and spend it as a "Mummy at leisure"!

For one, no alarm clocks...we shall sleep until we wake up! When we wake, we will go and jump puddles and chase sea gulls, then hike to the heated indoor pool for a few laps, have hot toast and superb coffee with my dark-eyed Venezuelan barista, Don Adan, with the chocolate velvet voice. (If you can't wake up next to him, at least you can make eyes at him over your morning coffee and newspaper! Wink-wink!)

Then...catch a water taxi to the Sydney Boat Show at Darling Harbour to teach little kids why dreams always come a few sizes too big..so you can grow into them!

To start them off on the dreamtime, I will be chartering a cabin cruiser as a surprise for Cub1's birthday party, and have lined up her Sydney classmates as crew! (Have told the boys to bring fishing rods too, though she assures me she knows more about fishing than all of them put together! EEEK, as long as I don't have to guide wriggley worms and smelly prawns onto hooks!) Its going to be interesting playing Capt Killian, chief cook and nanny without falling asleep from the seasick medication- but as usual, we will manage!

I am also planning to speak to a few international charter agencies about resuming what I did in my innocent youth...chartering skippered sailing yachts in the Med or Caribbean and making up a group for holidays. Think I'll focus on women customers only this time...imagine, a flotilla of babes in the Med...and from a distance, no-one will be able to see the wrinkles or cellulite and we can drive those hot-blooded blokes crazy!

To conclude with, perhaps a glass or two of champagne in the lazy winter sun and then off to the Dendy Cinema for more dreamtime up in Arnhem land on Ten Canoes or a dash of de ja vous with the solitary South African Academy Award-winner "TSOTSI", possibly even a trip down memory lane with the WAH-WAH or "The White Masai"

I have not planned much beyond that-must leave opportunity for a spot of spontaneity and serendipity- who knows what you might bump into? Hopefully not a spear-wielding Tsotsi!

Hmmmm....dance me to the end of love!

   It must be the week for poetry, music, romance...and this post is inspired by one poetic soul who reads my musings here and sends me beautiful songs! I had forgotten how I loved the song by Leonard Cohen because I had it only as an LP and sadly, that sold for 50 cents at my garage sale (have not yet replaced it on CD!)

and then...one thing leads to another and next thing I was delving into poetry and a newly-published collection of 16th century Shakespearean-style sonnets by Paul Monk-"Sonnets to a Promiscuous Beauty"- which I promptly ordered as I know Paul Monk (funny how unMonk-like he is, yet a deep and profound thinker!) in his guise as Managing Director of AUSTHINK...and there the connection comes back to me and work and innovation and...you know how the mind meanders and mine does that extra-ordinarily well!

But this is NOT about work, its about my other passion...PASSION, and the stuff that stirs the soul. The soul, consciousness and its evolution. According to research by Professor of Archealogy, Steven Mithen, the human responsiveness to rhythm and music runs very deep. It is more deeply-rooted in our psyches than language itself, because it is traceable to the mode of communication which preceded language and which still shapes the way our hominid brains work. He calls this pre-linguistic mode of communication by the acronym hmmmmm, because it is holistic, manipulative, multi-modal, musical and mimetic. (refer The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Body and Mind and The Prehistory of the Mind: The Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion and Science by Stephen Mithen)

All this is a very complicated, but nonetheless facscinating and illuminating, way for explaining why at a conscious level, I cannot understand or explain why I burst into tears when I hear beautiful music, or read a poem that through the sheer rhythm of the words chosen, touches the universal hmmmmmmmmmmm within me......(no co-incidence I'm sure that mantras and chakras use similar sounds to access the deepest consciousness)

Thus it is tonight...tears flowing for no particular reason...just the amygdala and hippocampus in my limbic brain responding and embracing every ounce of primal energy contained in this beautiful art.

And seeing I am having the weepies, why not pass it around and end with a poem by one of my favourites, Nobel Laureate, Pablo Neruda.

Tonight I can write

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.