every passing year, I look at the photos, the faces, listen to the somber sayings of the names, listening for the ones I know, not just names on a stone, although cold black granite serves the solemn sober nature reserved, for days like these, the stone stays as still and quiet as the solid photo poses, the lost ones, the never found, buried in that ground, time stopped there, in those footprints, in moments and long winding agonies down, forever and at once, rubble, a giant cloud of dust, time stood still to watch the towers fall as if unreal, but this was real, every day, I drive by, that skyline, my entire life the twin towers were there, but they were just buildings on a postcard, nothing more, not the photos of those lost, taken from the earth in two fell swoop, photos captured in time, of lives taken too soon, a reminder of the gentle foothold we hold on this precious earth, in an instant, a moment, that will undoubtedly fade into time and history, the names will be read, and over time the numbers will dwindle, as the greatest generation fades so too shall ground zero one day, a footnote, a lost monument but not for now, time marches on, a lifetime is just a summer song in the coming wake of winter, so sometimes we must pause in the sake of human misery, so we may remember the fallen, so we may be reminded of those here, to love one another, even if for an instance, that glimpse, those photos so silent, take action now, while your breath still allows it…
Music… For My Fallen Angel….
Shades of My Garden 