Like old paint that comes off the wall,
his life only appears to end, but then, it is nothing but only a short fall
of a leaf into the breeze
like a sailboat in the sea
lifted and raised and twirled about
until he reaches the clouds.
As he loses himself, he becomes stronger.
As he changes into a mere reflection in the mirror
He becomes even more visible
and more tangible
As he gradually loses his thoughts and his identity,
he becomes even more manifest, more real
getting really capable
of healing the world.
He gently threads the middle line
of the Yin and Yang
He still lives in his music, with his songs
He lives on
between good and bad
between shadow and light
between black and white
In between letters, here and there, everywhere
He will be there.
He now threads between the mirror and the man
He threads in between pairs of opposites
but for this earth, he will now see nothing but only the debris
that was before, only dirt, greed and hubris
Who is it that has said he was a psycho
Using words of perdition, pelting him with words of accusation
as for them, their fame is short-lived and they will still die alone
and unremembered, dust on the floor
Although he no longer exists
his life actually commences
One day in your life that you think of him will be his eternity
There is no need to say it, he too can never can say goodbye
In the normal sort of style,
He is not alone, and remember, you are not alone
the love you save, for him
Will last forever
In the end, all of us will still come together
para siempre.
(Inspired by the song "You are not alone")
By Kamarul Shahrin June 27, 2009
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