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Elegy on the Death of Steve Jobs* (Protagoras, December 15, 2007) Farewell Steve Jobs the charismatic preacher Whose first vocation was perhaps Guyana That sunlit clearing where the waiting crowd Wept as they drank and died, and he died later. But Woz and Sculley, illness, resurrection The cheering lost familial annual crowds Saved him from all that. Now that he has died The Cupertino crowds that lined the streets Through which his train with black clad mourners flowed Could half not know they had been acolytes. They strewed the road before him with their flowers Something of loveliness had left their lives They'd not so much believed as felt a pull Where buying was belonging, using meant A spiritual rapture and a state of grace Inclined without necessity. There, freedom Seemed to be perfected in his will. But turn turn away now, turn you now and climb. Off board the pastel roaring bird your ashes Drift as a grey cloud into the waves They cannot hear your funeral elegies That blend of Zen, Far Eastern and New Age That spiritual pride is all forgotten now And whether it was cult, religion, commerce Will not long trouble now the primeval ooze Or settling dust of what was once a man. *No, he is not dead. It's a poem. For more on a wide array of other topics, please visit the oftwominds.com weblog. 
HTML, format and art copyright © 2007 Charles Hugh Smith, copyright to text and all other content in the above work is held by the author of the essay as of the publication date listed above. All rights reserved in all media. The views of the contributor authors are their own, and do not reflect the views of Charles Hugh Smith. All errors and errors of omission in the above essay are the sole responsibility of the essay's author. The writer(s) would be honored if you linked this Readers Journal essay to your site, or printed a copy for your own use.
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