Sam

hollow 

is my heart 

as i 

wonder why 

the fucking sky

won't start

to weep 

an admonition at the fates

in somber recognition

of the wretched devastation 

and universal harm

in the loss of such a man;

of such kindness, grace, and charm;

at the emptiness of space

where this gentle giant stood.

on stage and page he towered,

he made the mediocre good

and the good, he made divine

with an eruditely crafted line.

had setbacks, but never soured.

instead he softly chuckled 

at some dirty joke

then took it only as he could

to make an eloquent bon mot.

authentic, real, and raw;

he knew what others did not know.

he saw what others never saw.

he made a symphony of words

and he played it for us all

as we would raptly listen

in adoration and in awe.

i listen for his echos

in the chasms of my grief.

that he is gone 

is so unjust

it beggars belief.