06/10/06Laughter -- may it be the final reception,the song that ushers the end, my enduring requiem. When old age renders an encompassing fading, when the mind is but a string of shivered echoes in the interim of counted breaths unadorned, bereft of words, I hope that however sparse the remainder of substance would cling to accompany my mind through the whirr and blur of letting go, I could still firmly preserve the one memory -- the last I would need to recognize the tilt, list and lilt of the sound I have known to be my own voice: that once, many times it danced, streaking chords of homespun joy. =======================
|