The world is a different place when people you know are gone out of it: it is as if the roads and railways to familiar places had been closed, the towns themselves removed from the map, the landscape changed; the course you took for granted, always assumed would be available to you, is shut off, inaccessible. The old familiar path, the well-trodden way, is barred. You can no longer go there any time.
COMPLEAT TROWZER
COMPLEAT TROWZER 
This is true and beautifully expressed. There’s a good poem just under the surface. You should think about working it up.
Why thankee. Coming from one I have always considered il mig. fab. I take that as a compliment indeed. I also think the piece is better for the omission of the reference to the specific dead that was in it at first: less personal, more universal.
You can go there but sometimes you are void of the spirit that once tread that same path , your words here could help me grieve or realise how terrible it can be at times to acknowledge that loss of spirit , this little piece of writing is interesting something to acknowledge and also it reminds me of existentialism a path that kinda scares me a little and yet interests me . Why does it remind me I ask myself , perhaps because I see truth in what is , the path does not have the same joy the same life , why I ask myself; it is still the same physical path the same trees line it , the very same sounds surround it but it is not the same it does not lead to the same person , that person is gone and yes I can imagine the person is in the wind in the nature that surrounds the path but that is not real it is not something living, it lives only in the imagination. Just an observation , your written words are philosophical and philosophy interests me however my brain has become cloudy because I have not been using it , discovering your blog may have been just the right ingredient , we shall see .
Always nice to meet a fellow philosopher. Thanks for stopping by.