the difference in you living out a self, and a self being lived in.

Last day of work was nothing special. Aly said she'd write a letter of recommendation though, if she could, which is awful nice of her to do. Saw more people today when I went in to pick up my check, which was nice. Said goodbye to more people. I may be back in the summer though, so it could be just a, "I will return" ala McArthur (sp?).

In other news, banjo is going to be good for my back, playing it correctly requires really good posture. This is a good thing, but also a painful thing, unfortunately. Currently listening to one of the "Best 27.4 Minutes of my Life". Let's just say, "we can not be stopped, no."

This one's 'Here is a Man'. I wrote it Freshman year of college, went back earlier this year and revised it.

Here is a man who once
Shot another
That I may live.
The bullet entered in the
Center of my attacker’s palm,
Shattering the bones
In a flash of blood and iron.
When that man passed away
From grief, this man
Was one of few
That threw a rose in his grave.

Here is a man who once
Loved me
That I might live.
He has loved as
No other can,
As no other could.
When I fell out of love,
He loved on; this man
Would have been one
That threw a rose on my grave.

Here is a man who is
Timeless,
Sinnlos,
A Zeitgeist by more than one meaning.
His memory –
It’s broken.

So here he sits
In a French Café,
Two hours away from another day of shelving books
In this small village,
Speaking a language he never knew,
He knows not my face as I pass by…
Remembers not my touch,
Nor the smell of gunpowder.

He carries with him, however,
A rose;
He is ready should I die.