Yin and Yang of Existence

Tragedy befalls all of us during the moments we least expect. These grief stricken realities are forever present in the rhythms of life and in these times of confrontations with the nature of things I am compelled to commit to life’s transient pleasures – they are all the more tantalising and necessary as we all march forward into the wonderful abyss of oblivion.

Charles Bukowski says it all so beautifully with his cheeky eye to detail…….

Consummation Of Grief – Poem by Charles Bukowski

I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.