Candle In The Dark

Someone died.

This should come as no surprise, I guess. It happens every day. I see more than my fair share of it, I would cautiously suggest.

I got a phone call on Saturday, bearing the unwelcome news. I had an idea something wasn't right, social networking sites being what they are, but the call filled in the blanks.

I've made these calls, and received them, and I still don't know which is worse.

To say this was someone I know, is stretching the point. We were aware of each other, but the most interaction I think we had was a disagreement about the NHS, and some slightly unkind things were said about my bedside manner.

But he was very dear to people who are dear to me.

Can I say that I feel their pain?

Not as deeply, surely; it cannot cut as deep, cannot burn with such cruel heat.

But I know that the sun seems to shine a little less brightly today, that the curtain seems to have been pulled a bit further across the light.

Farewell, Farewell (Reprise)

Farewell, farewell to you who would hear
You lonely travellers all
The cold north wind will blow again
The winding road does call


And will you never return to see
Your bruised and beaten sons?
"Oh, I would, I would, if welcome I were
For they love me, every one"


And will you never cut the cloth
Or drink the light to be?
And can you never swear a year
To anyone of we?


"No, I will never cut the cloth
Or drink the light to be
But I'll swear a year to one who lies
Asleep along side of me"


Farewell, farewell to you who would hear
You lonely travellers all
The cold north wind will blow again
The winding road does call
(C) Warlock Music; reproduced without permission. Lyrics: Richard Thompson