Closer Then

Across the endless canvas of still moments, velvet echoes unfold like whispered secrets beneath a twilight sky. Each fragment of sound bears the imprint of a soul: fragile, luminous, and ever-changing. Serenity lingers in the fading light as memories blur, and the language of silence smolders gently in the unspoken spaces. This is a journey through the subtle textures of being, where each breath traces the delicate balance between what is remembered and what quietly fades.

Cosmic Grains

Subtle Bass Embrace

Static Rain

Quiet Collapse

"Beau", also known as "I'll Never Forget a Dog Named Beau", is a poem written by American film and stage actor James Stewart.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beau_(poem)

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

And on the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

And, he'd charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
To follow him where he was bound.

We're early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,

And I'd give him one for a while.
And he'd push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd dig it out with a smile.
But before very long He'd tire of the ball

And he'd be asleep in his corner In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.

And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
He'd wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,

But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

I’ll Never Forget A Dog Named Beau

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K1ssMeee

Dog-eared

BM Studio: Rhythm

Charly the Bulldog

Rapper/Street Musician. 
Dirty street traveller.
Follower of Marco Polo, my dog and spiritual guru.
Hail Eris! FNORD!!!

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