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Never forget today;
never forget tomorrow;
never forget yesterday;
never forget the debt that we owe,
never forget the importance of sorrow.
The world loses someone important,
vibrant, memorable, and amazing,
every minute of every day-
however, we are only lucky enough
to know a fraction of those fascinating people,
but those who we do know are the stars in the sky
of our lives who shine upon us, and who energize us,
and who inspire us to be a certain way,
and without them life would not be so wonderful or beautiful.
Our lost friends are our conscience;
our forgotten memories are still hanging
in the gallery of our minds,
but they are just waiting to be unveiled again;
our connections with everyone are still strong,
and are everlasting,
because that first impression gifted
can only be given once;
our heart, our compassion,
our want to remember and be remembered will never die,
and there are days on which it is important to take a moment
and remember how lucky you are to be here on this planet-
and one of those dates, those days, those moments,
is today, on September the eleventh.
I have been to your beautiful memorial;
I have sent a prayer of peace to you all at the tree of hope;
I have been moved to tears at the memory and thought of you all,
even though we never met;
I have mourned you every day since that terrible day,
as if I were attending your funeral;
I have remembered, and will always remember,
where I was when I saw the world change forever in so many ways,
and I will hang on to that memory for the rest of my life
like a rope;
I have no answer as to why what happened the way it did,
and why those who did what they chose to,
but that is not important-
because what is paramount is that we stop anything
as horrifying from happening again as best that we can,
and always remember and teach peace,
think of the fallen often,
and never forget.
Ten years ago, I literally watched people die right before my eyes
and I couldn’t do a thing about it, I couldn’t save them-
on September 11th, 2001,
I, like billions of people all around the world,
watched almost three-thousand lights be extinguished in an instant,
the like of which we will never see again.
I could not believe what I was seeing at first-
I could not put into words the horror that I felt, the horror that I saw-
and then when the World Trade Center began to fall
I just remember putting my right hand to my chest,
as if I were having a heart attack,
and thinking that the entire world had gone mad,
that the whole world was now at war.
I will never get over what I saw on that Tuesday afternoon;
I will never understand why someone, anyone,
would freely choose to impact the world in such a deplorable way;
I will never again look at the stunning New York City skyline
and not think of that day.
If I could I would carry a picture of everyone who died on September 11th-
in New York City, at the Pentagon, on Flight 11, on Flight 175, on Flight 77,
and those who lost their lives heroically on Flight 93-
if I could I would look at every face, every day,
and send them and their family my love, and the gift of my poetry.
To those who died on September 11th, 2001,
this poem is for you.
To those who carry the memory and relive that Tuesday
whenever they look at themselves in the mirror,
this poem is for you.
To those who observed, who were touched,
who will never forget September 11th, 2001-
this poem is for you.
This poem is for you
To those who left the mortal coil on that day,
it is to you that I do hereby pray;
and to those left behind to continue their memory:
may you be blessed with Peace, Love, and Serenity.
I for one can not convey
how much I am thinking about you all on this day.
A day in which we remember those loved and lost,
and who will always be with you, but at what cost?
I would like to end by saying this:
I will forever remember you all with a kiss.
A small token I grant you, and which could never compare
to the shining face of your loved one, but nothing would dare.
In closing, I would just like say:
may everyone be at peace on this day.
monumentum
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 