It's the most beautiful thing to encounter one through his words, to embed said words into the core of strangers till they somehow, through the miniature transition from reading to understanding, transform to actual knowingness. Familiarity! For quite sometime, I have admired you from a distance, from the insatiable words left to cleanse the wounds on my skin but never enough to heal; I have come to memorise you through your photos, your perfectly lined brows, skin the tasteful shade of coffee. A beauty that leaves more to behold. I have come to memorise the life you live. The simple things that make up BROCK. I remember thinking, the first day you waltzed past me, 'Oh, how can one smell so lusciously like butter?' I remember wanting to say something, to paint myself along the colorful canvas that is your life... I didn't. It's always amusing how much I have come to know 'what Brock would write' by merely reading off a few lines. Just last night, before I slept, I read a post you wrote about two years ago, and everytime I have read you, I have felt a part of you, like water on quicksand, I have absorbed you. You inspire me in ways words can't express, and it's a blessing to live amongst your generation. A man who, in his words, is first human, then brother, then friend. A man who never sugar-coats Kolanut. I love you, in that special kind of way one loves God, in that possessive kind of way one does life. It's a beautiful thing to watch you grow. Thank you for being who you are....
Let's use words;
I remember the first time you spoke to me, locks and all; I remember holding your stare for a little longer, the fiery sparkle in your eyes as you addressed me, the gentle pause of your lips, the elegance with which you trailed the locks off your face. It's difficult to forget the heartiness in your laughter or the effortlessness with which homes are crafted within you. It's difficult to forget you, Brock!
And today, just another day of thinking about you, I want you to be the happiest, to find content even in the most dire of times, to sort happiness amidst frail hope, to see yourself in the ways I see you, strong and ebullient; able to stand tall with his beliefs. I want the world to know how dear you are, how beautiful the soul you harbor.
your pulses would forever throb within these hollow hearts....
You remain an unforgettable friend!
-Dedicated to a poet's unforgettable friend