All Eras End.

In searching through the odd, hodge-podge, treasure-house, wonderland of our grandparents house, Ilian and I came upon an old literary magazine. It appears to have been from a school of some sort, but it does not say where and none of our family members names are on it or in it anywhere. it has beautiful, dark illustrations, and the first poem in it was extremely striking and oddly appropriate for the whole situation. I transcribe it here, though I couldn't tell you why exactly, since I still haven't shared this with the public, but I feel compelled to do so. I transcribe as it is formatted in the book, knowing that phrases would fit differently on that page when they were more than one line than if I went by the standard of this blog, and wish to stay as close to the author's design as possible.
Without any further ado.

BE QUIET NOW AND STILL

Be quiet now and still.
Be unafraid: that hiss and garden tinkle is the rain,
that face you saw breath on the window pane
was just my startled cat with eyes of jade--cats
worry in the rain, you know, and are afraid.
That nervous laugh that creeps into your room is throated
in a phonographic voice below the floor. We hear
it once and then no more, a distant echo tumbling
in its loom. Our time is measured in another room.
We know days pass because we're told.
We lie alone disputing actions on a crazy earth.
(You whisper in my ear it has some worth.)
And I lean near to keep you from the cold.
There are so many things that must be told.
I speak of lost regimes and distant times,
and moon-eyed children smiling in the womb,
and legless beggars prophesying doom,
and afternoons of rain spun into rhyme.
(The patter of the rainfall marks our time
As does the waning moon
or muted sun.
As do the nodding gods who ride the sea.)
For even now, alone and still with me,
you (as I) sense that bonds cannot be undone;
Our pulse is in the rain and moon and sun,
we take our breaths together and are one.

GORDON KLAUBER

It feels beautiful when spoken out-loud.
I realized today that I will never see that house again.
One thing I have learned in the past year-and-a-half is that life is always hard, even when it's easy.
But I am, mostly, happy.
It is October. It is difficult to say, but October might be my favorite month of the year. Real October started last night. It was very beautiful, and very cold.