If we do not know each other in flesh and blood, what are the things that bind us?

A fellow poet has left us. His den is empty. I didn't have the chance to save the poems that touched me. No warning. The sudden shock of it leaves me numb. Are they an illusion, these ties of friendship to a person unseen? I see the writers at AD as a community--a sub-culture within all our cultures. The coming together of people from all walks of life and countries is unique. We do not wage war here. The boundaries here are the heart and mind...unfathomable and unmeasurable.

My first posting was near the end of January this year. But time seems to have no bearing here. People have embraced me and I feel like I'm part of a large, extended family at a reunion. And what a feast! Drama, philosophy, romance, history, mystery, reference, horror, psychology, comedy and fantasy. Varied fruits of the Muse to suit any taste. Reading other writer's creations expand our own conciousness. We see through another's eyes.

This is the one true value here. People touch hearts and souls. Change our perspectives. Expand our universe. Help us to understand an experience of which we have no first-hand knowledge. Help us to understand ourselves. And they serve us in our day-to-day lives as writers. So I moarn the loss of this member of our family--a gentlemen, scholar and brilliant satirist. A poet of quiet depth. A staunch supporter of his fellow writers. And I wish him good health, joy and much success on his journey...