Many a flower spends its hour alone,
Unknown.
Yielding to the year
An unappreciated perfume.
Something like that was said by Shakespeare.
But when Shakespeare found his doom,
He left behind the scent of floods of flowers,
Which still perfume the air of many people's hours.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
But so many millions of other human beings live,
And only a few if any ever know of all that their hearts have to give;
And when they die,
Few if any remember anything worthwhile they were or gave.
They are gone, forgotten in a grave.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
But they knew themselves.  And sometimes a few or one
Knew them as well.  They walked beneath the sun;
They moved under the stars; and they were real.
They had much they knew and much that they could feel.
Their loss is as great as any loss or the loss of anyone.
But they are unknown and forgotten as though they never were.
What tragedy more sad than this, could one's compassion stir?
Yet, it is happening over and over again, ever multiplied,
By all the unknown people who continue to live and die,
And all the unknown millions who have died.
But still, each one was an individual;
Each one was a world unique, and full of all reality.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Just so, my friend Brian and I
Have each lived our individual lives,
And we lived a brief life together as best friends.
Then Brian was made so early to die.
And too soon for me, also will I.
Then, our memory ends.
Except the memories kept in heart by relatives and friends.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I wish that everyone could have known Brian,
And still know him in their memories.
No one will ever know a better human being.
He was a gentle, loving, kind person, more giving
Than anyone I ever knew, dead or living.
His sense of humor was pricelessly infectious,
And made so many others laugh and smile.
His own smile was sunshine to see;
And when he laughed, he laughed so happily,
That one might think that all the world was only happiness.
He loved life and all its joys; when eating, he relished every bite,
Often nodding to his companion how good it tasted.
He learned to live in the moment, and to love the light;
Not much of his time was ever afterward wasted.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Brian had knowledge of so many things--especially vintage films,
Old cartoon shows like Bulwinkel, movies like the Marx Brothers:
Brian had much knowledge of such things, and of many others;
He was an endlessly interesting conversationalist.
No one who did not know him well, can know him fully well
From any words that I might write, or any story I might tell.
He was too special, too good, too unique.
I wish there were endless videos of him, so he could always speak.
But all his goodness and grace left little trace, and only in my mind
And in the minds of a few others, can there still live even part
Of the magic, sweet person who once lived in his great, good heart.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
For Brian is one of those wonderful flowers,
Whose precious value was known by only a few.
And when we die, as Brian was made to die,
No one will ever know, or fully know,
The wonderful Brian we knew.
The wonderful Brian we love so much,
And miss so much--
Because we knew.

==============================
Written by Michael LP, aka PoetWithCancer
aka (thanks to my dear friend Luna Marie) Mr. Poet
Written on Tuesday, March 7, 2012 11:47 AM PST
48 degrees F.   Humidity: 24%   Forecast: overcast
Copyright (C) 2012 by Michael LP.  All rights reserved
(Copyrighted for my estate)

P.S. I've been having a bad time, and I am still not feeling well, but I rallied a bit today, and I began to think of my best friend Brian, and I felt compelled to write another tribute to him in his memory, and post it.  I'm still in a bad way, but my oncologist said he expects I will begin to get used to my new chemo tablets in time.  Maybe a couple of weeks.  I will still post when I feel so driven to do so that it overcomes all else.  --Michael LP