What should one's life be?

Neat and orderly?

or messy and chaotic?

Quiet desperation,

even quieter compromise?

or daring thrills,

creative experiments?

Walking carefully along

looking down at 

gray sidewalks

to avoid crack or pebble?

or leaping from peak to peak

across gaping canyons

looking down

from dizzying heights?

No one should decide for another.

One can only live what one believes.

If you ask, we believe:

Life should not be

a methodical journey to the grave

with the goal being sure, safe arrival 

in a well-preserved body,

but rather to skid in sideways, 

flute of champagne in hand,

screaming "What a Ride!"

More poems for lost loved ones 

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