Note
behold: twelve stanzas in honour of Peter Capaldi and his brilliant thus-far performance.
"It was my destiny to love and say goodbye."
/ Pablo Neruda
the story, the story;
you know it so well:
the story of the man
whose world is such Hell.
he loves and they leave;
it ends like this always:
it ends with forgetting
and dimension and falling.
on occasion, beginning
will dawn with an end –
the basis of a love
that consists of, "we're when?"
five minutes early
or twelve years too late –
it doesn't much matter
when dealing with fate.
kissed by an Angel,
whisked off on swift wing –
"goodbye, raggedy man"
is a shattering thing.
impossible – oh, yes,
she's that and much more:
she's blowing around
on a leaf through the world.
he lives and he loves
and he's so old and kind,
and they're achingly burnt
on his hearts and his mind.
he travels and changes
and learns to forget –
so painful, it is,
to live in regret.
whether good man or bad,
he loves just the same –
and valedictory is something
that knows him by name.
his most ancient friend
that he's loved least of all –
an enemy, perhaps,
foreboding and tall:
goodbye waits for him
in Libraries and graveyards –
places that now
pierce him like shards.
he's got Heaven to come,
and Heaven to fear,
but Death is no issue;
it always is near.
"Love is so short, forgetting is so long."
/ also Pablo Neruda