rip
as the glass walls of limbo surround me endlessly for the millionth time. i feel the man gone. for an aethist there is nothing more sacred than life. nothing more final than a death. it is in a moment of passing that you are judged. not in dying, not when dead. there is no judgment for those gone. it is in each of our moments that we who remain are judged.
you around me. you and i are found in question. what is it that we bring ourselves. how do we justify each moment? in his legacy peter steele brought much to all, and for the time his ripples pass in the pool of lives, there will be more for his having existed with us.
48. so early to go, so far to have made it. there've been so many over the length of their space here that did more, but 10 million times more that will do no less than demean the spirit of this life and everyone else's. here passed a man who captured a spirit that thralled a great throng of us, dark and light. we felt more than we were due, and are still inspired beyond where we would have been, without.
sources, references, inspirations... so many quote what sent them where they go. so many define what they're doing, excuse what they feel, with the light from another's eyes. truer to ourselves are we who feel the spirit of many pass through us. who can't define ourselves through trite references to others who are better known to have lived with great stregnth.
we feel deeply the throng of many flowing through us, all with a different shade of one shard of our own core reflecting the facets of our life's glittering moment. it builds our existances a nice little cage. walls shimmering of anger, and a lock burning of rage.
rest well peter. even had it been 100 years from now, your passing couldn't ever be more painful than it is to us now.
you around me. you and i are found in question. what is it that we bring ourselves. how do we justify each moment? in his legacy peter steele brought much to all, and for the time his ripples pass in the pool of lives, there will be more for his having existed with us.
48. so early to go, so far to have made it. there've been so many over the length of their space here that did more, but 10 million times more that will do no less than demean the spirit of this life and everyone else's. here passed a man who captured a spirit that thralled a great throng of us, dark and light. we felt more than we were due, and are still inspired beyond where we would have been, without.
sources, references, inspirations... so many quote what sent them where they go. so many define what they're doing, excuse what they feel, with the light from another's eyes. truer to ourselves are we who feel the spirit of many pass through us. who can't define ourselves through trite references to others who are better known to have lived with great stregnth.
we feel deeply the throng of many flowing through us, all with a different shade of one shard of our own core reflecting the facets of our life's glittering moment. it builds our existances a nice little cage. walls shimmering of anger, and a lock burning of rage.
rest well peter. even had it been 100 years from now, your passing couldn't ever be more painful than it is to us now.