My Eyes are captivated only through grace, and enlightened through those ruby locks. I bask in wit, and dwell in which that someday, it may matter to you. Of Joyous days, from which I've found pass by like dawn's early view My heart's amiss Quite pondered in which, the day I was wondering too. The smiles and cheers, And God's only jeers Can only take those feeling from you. Ryan

I’ve heard this thing where, when someone dies, People close up all the holes around the house— The keyholes, the chimney, the windows, Even the mouths of the animals, the dogs and the pigs. It’s so the soul won’t be confused, or tempted. It’s so when the soul comes out of the body it’s been in But that doesn’t work anymore, It won’t simply go into another one And try to make itself at home, Pretending as if nothing happened. There’s no mystery—it’s too much work to move on. It isn’t anybody’s fault. A soul is like any of us. It gets used to things, especially after a long life. The way I sit in my living-room chair, The indentation I have put in it now After so many years—that’s how I understand. It’s my chair, And I know how to sit in it. Alberto Ríos