Remembrance

When in high school, he teased me about my award.
I worked hard to earn that award.
He snickered as he passed and called me a "li'l carrier."
Shrug of his shoulders, smirk on his face, eyes dancing with endearing friendship.

When in theater, he drew my eyes.
His timing and presence captivated attention.
A mug, a spit take, a moment of tenderness.
We cheered, applauded, and reveled in his talent.

When in wings, his bladder signaled lights up.
Waiting in places he would start wiggling,
Then turn and ask if he had time.
He never did, but Backstage Bladder was coined.

When in production, his laughter lifted us all.
He made us better; he made a cohesive ensemble.
Whether comedy, tragedy, or a bit of both,
Justin was on and he raised us up.

When in ether, he leaves us behind.
No more a physical presence--
His star transcends to the universe.
Among the heavens he resides for eternity.

Good bye my friend. I love you.

Calling-a stream of consciousness ponderance

Calling

People often talk about The Call.
What do they hear?
Hey you!
No, the other one! Yeah you! What the fuck mate?

I long to hear that distinct calling: one that compels you forward on a path of belief,
Of trust,
Of value.
Of respect for yourself and for others.
One where you feel warmth after a rough day.
One where you can see the same self-worth reflected back in the eyes of another person.

How good is  your hearing?
Will you hear The Call when it beckons?
Or will you miss it?

An indifferent world keeps right on spinning whether you stop to heed that call when it comes or not.
Sorry-the Universe does not have voicemail.
It lacks email.
Cares not for time schedules.
Perhaps though, some solace can be found that in this existence: The Call keeps right on going, too.

Miss it?
Wait for the echo.