For a Friend Who Died

[[I'm not changing this one.
If it's got mistakes it's got mistakes.]]

To My Friend
Years ago when your tap on my shoulder
Informed me of your nature, I reeled
Under the weight of the many burdens I carried.
I have lost too many friends to their prejudices
And I have wasted too much time on moral philosophy
While the practical use of my mind withered.
Some people have minds that shine.
They spill out words that stun with their inventiveness.
Yours is such a mind.
When the afternoon settles down into a ghostly routine
The things you have to say are still as energetic
As the life of the morning culture.
When I told you how brilliant I thought your art,
Each piece like a window into your thoughts,
A parade of all your emotions,
Care taken to calculate just what effect each display would have,
Those things I said were true.
Never believe that your efforts are wasted
Or that the vision of your work
Could be anything other than the heart and breath of talent.
Worthless exhibition to the public around you,
The populace so slow to think on its own,
Will get you nothing your efforts
Did not already gain.
Don’t worry about being forgotten
Because the quality of your ideals deserves
The most positive of remembrance.
When the passing of your spirit from the body
Throws the people who have known you
Into depression and despair
It will be said of you that you were truly an artist.
There is no need for a degree
Because true artistic respect does not come from
A paid-in-full receipt for tuition.
Worry even less about who you are.
Ignorance about the human body has not yet been stamped out,
But there are those people that believe in a simple morality.
Let the fates make your demise a pleasant one,
The best people should not have to suffer.
Such a fate should be reserved for the people who abuse
The gentle artistic spirits of this planet.
May their passing be filled with howls and moans of pain
And the agony of the realization
That they treated good people badly.
Also let none come upon this memorial
With the intention of defaming it’s message.
They will suffer worse than the rest
For trying to think wicked thoughts into friendship.
The plague that overtakes them will be a curse
Not unlike the swelling of the brain,
And it will be called sheer stupidity.
So while the rest of the world festers in condemnation
Carry on the illumined life you have dedicated yourself to.
In the end a reward does wait.