After listening to the podcasts from K’s trip to Scotland, I find myself unsure of many things: what is the emotional state of my brother? Did these things really happen? After numerous attempts I have still been unable to reach him and so I put my thoughts down here, in this space that he has lived so much of his inner life, and I invite him to seek out whatever level of contact he is capable of. Shown below is an excerpt from Sorren’s pages. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the similarities of thought between this man now long gone, and that of my brother, recently gone. Fare thee well, friend.
Lost in the Garden
I walked through a garden that was given to a friend
I walked through her garden where the strange and sacred blend
I'm lost now in the garden, trying to find myself again
Strolling past the silent trees amongst the creatures in their hiding
Deep in thought of ancient times and prophecies colliding
The master and his masterpiece have given us this day
Our lives are spent uncovering the mysteries of the way
A response is finally heard, but not what I had expected. K’s mind becomes fixated on the abstraction of permanence. I cannot speak for anyone’s actions or beliefs other than my own, but I also cannot help but wonder: where are the hands of the shepherd? Where is M?