Tourists Through Eternity

Every day I go over my lists
Trying to figure out who I have missed;
So many names still waiting and still,
So many confirmed on arrival by quill.
Some running towards me with arms open wide,
Imagining a haven beyond my reaching stride;
The humans below tend to help quite a lot,
Kin and strangers tied in a knot;
How strange and confined do they all seem
When o' so vainly they're trying to deem:
Is it oblivion that they seek?
Or maybe good ol' eternity's chic?

Once in a while I go through the names
Of those I remember, of those with the flames,
I smile at their folly and cry with their souls
Endless potential there crashed on my shoals;
But for those who still wonder, for those who still care,
Let me tell you a secret, if you're willing to dare:
Everyday I hum with the spirits their life's joy
Sorrow hereafter unwilling to share nor destroy;
The music at heart is the sound of the babe,
The cry of the mother, do not be afraid.

This post is dedicated to Spencer Bell and to all those who have passed by, tourists hurrying elsewhere, taking and giving worlds filled with love.

Check out Spencer Bell on his last.fm and MySpace and beautiful memorial site.

Spencer Bell - Tourist {MP3} (from Feudal, Brutal, and the American Dream)