The third book by A Love Supreme
Infinity in Finite: The River of Death
Poetry about Death and Dying.
A contemplation of perpetuity and finality
Available on Amazon, buy your copy here
The third book of poetry in my literary career, Infinity In Finite: The River of Death, arrives one year after a previous effort ( Hi Friends 2024), and I am most excited to unveil it to the world. I release this book in conjunction with some of the anxieties, pains, and losses that have occurred as of late. Death is the ultimate force that exists in the universe, even the boundless universe too shall die and be reborn, purified and purged of its innate chaos and indifference.
Let me tell you a story:
I was depressed (as usual) and feeling especially sick of life, sick of loneliness, sick of being myself, sick of society, sick of artificial intelligence. My most played song for a month was by Stringbean, “Suicide Blues”, which brought me much comfort; it was whimsical enough to bring a smile, melodic enough to make me hum, yet sad enough to make me cry. I was death-obsessed.
Then, I got some news.
A classmate of mine from high school, as beautiful as one could be, is living in Los Angeles, partying with celebrities, modeling, and living the life most people act like they live. One day, I’m checking Facebook and I’m seeing her appear all over my timeline. What happened to Cecelia? Just the other day I saw her dancing with Ty Dollar $ign and doing other socialite activities.
“Oh, you really hurt us with this one,” one classmate posted. “How could you do this to us, Cecelia?” another posted. At this point, I thought she had committed some horrific crime or had disgraced herself in some horrific way that would cause my former classmates to speak out about it. However, when I found the truth, I was stunned.
Cecilia Melbourne, 29, was walking with her dog when two cars got into an accident. One of the vehicles veered off and struck a pedestrian (Melbourne) and her dog, which knocked her off a cliff, hitting her head and killing her on impact. This was A freak accident.
Stunned as I was, I immediately sobered from feelings of ennui and depression and reflected upon all the things I had not yet completed in my life.
I was fond of Cecelia for a time in high school. She was a tall, lanky girl who had *it* ,as we all (should) do after High School. We grow up and grow out , and I observed her from afar. When I heard of her passing, a thick, viscous deluge of immense sorrow poured over me, and poured me of much heavy darkness that had befallen my conscience as of late.
You see, Cecelia’s passing was a gleaming reminder of not only my own mortality, but also the mortality of my parents, those I love, those I dislike, and how temporary all this is.
EVERYTHING IS BUT FOR A TIME
There’s so little time to write the books, create the music, find the girl, and raise the family, only so much time to live. If only you knew how close the end was then maybe you might find delight in that which is uncomfortable for a moment, yet temporary and vapid just like life itself.
No matter what we all must reckon with the end as we traverse down the river —The River of Death.
Extra Dedications.
This book was produced entirely in St. Croix, USVI with as much time and attention as I could muster. Though I write this article in my Santa Fe NM home, the spirit of the book lives on that island in Christiansted. During my time on the island I made quick friends with comedian Jordan “Duttyheart” Jones, who was quite the gregarious, rasta, defiant type. He was an painfully funny and surprisingly talented island icon. Sadly, Dutty was taken away from us, on a Thursday afternoon, while drinking on the Christiansted boardwalk, Dutty got into an altercation with someone who was attempting to steal his chain, then shot in the face, DEAD. That was the very same day I arrived back in Santa Fe. I pray for your restful voyage into the unending.
A few days later I received a message that one of my grandpuppies who was a firefighter in Raton NM choked on plastic and died. My beautiful grandpuppy died before I could travel to Northern NM to see him at work. I love you Big Pun.
The same day, the goliath funkateer Sly Stone died.
Then the next day, the eerily talented Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys died.
I love you all, and I will see you soon, hopefully in the hereafter.
