What am I without you?

Six months ago, one was enough. I was comfortable in my solitude. But life is changed now. I am changed. I am changed in the possibility and the reality of you.

What am I without you?

I am the moon without the pull of earth, careening recklessly through empty, dark space. I am the silent morning songbird. I am the blues guitar, tuned, ready, but unplayed. I am complete, but empty, filled in winsome void. I am a rowboat, adrift on an endless sea.

For what is love without love's lover? The flower, gone to seed.

Time ticks mercilessly on. The train's hypnotizing drone on uneven tracks. Entering the dark tunnel. Light fades. Blackness overtakes.

I listened to some old Mississippi blues this morning. Son House. Skip James. Death Letter. Special Rider. Music lost for decades. Rediscovered.

Grief, loss-- sadness deified.

I woke up this mo'ning
Looked at the special risin' sun
Now, I pray up to thee, good Lord
That my special rider, she would come

Every chord is sweet longing. No solace in the words.

Every morning, the sun wakes me. I rise. I drink in dark brewed coffee. My prayers go unanswered, but the sun still shines.

What is it about that dark coffee that reminds me of you?

The song continues...

You know, I got me a letter
And how do you reckon it read?
You betta hurry up and come home
Because your special rider, she's dead

I smile at the postman as he passes my house. Three days, no letter, no words, only silence, from you.

And I wonder if death would be better than silence, if life without your touch is anything at all.