As So Goes The Bear By John Patrick Robbins

Our words were short as time is but a moment ever fleeting upon this plain of existence.

My memories of you are as cloudy as a puddle's gray sky's reflection of something I rather forget.

But my friend you once told me.

"Our disease does not hide, we simply choose to ignore it until it's far too late."

I didn't want to face the solution, as I spoke to you beyond fucked up.
Lost in a storm of ego and ignorance that I could control a fucking tornado by pretending I was ultimately in control.

"You know you can always call me John, just make sure it's when you are ready to admit it's beyond your control."

My old friend said to me and as I said my goodbyes I played it off.
Mocking his spiel and doing what I do best.

Play the role others believe to be the fractured individual that is someone over time I truly do not understand myself.

I could always called you and like anyone not wanting to face the cancer that is their truth I never did.

And on the day an old friend told me of your passing I was numb fighting withdrawals, my heart pounding like a wounded animal yearning for escape.

I thought of you, a man who had battled a stroke, cancer and the same addiction as I.

It was never that I didn't call because I did not respect you.

It is the exact opposite my friend.
I admired you as many will speak of your words.
But as we are eternally brothers of the page.

It is the compassion you showed me as a friend knowing me no more than a stranger from a website.

You eternally are that bear, as that animal often stands alone in its strength and understanding.

That pillar has been removed only from sight never from heart or the dungeons of a darkened soul such as mine.

Rest well my friend.

Sincerely from the pains of my eternal regrets.

In memory of a great friend.

I do not explain art, I merely create it.