A year and a half after Laura's death, her Spirit is with me still. She is not forgotten. She will never be forgotten.

January 21, 2004 I awoke to Julia's calling me, ''Your breakfast is ready!'' She said it three times, in a musical sing song voice. Ah, my breakast is cold, but it is still tasty. I chew thoroughly the green pepper on the crunchy round corn disc coated with melted cheese. The 'cosmic forecast' predicts SIMPLE PLEASURES BRING GREAT ENJOYMENT, (Saturn trine Venus) Laura would say, ''Are you STILL reading those silly things?'' I would answer, ''Yes, it amuses me!'' And 'simple pleasures' are good to enjoy any day. Today, I will leave off the deep thought to enjoy such things as good music. The gentle circular meanderings of a harp repeat a chord pattern, while a soft alto sings: In my dreams we still return to summer fields where our love burned, in clover green where we once lay lay. Those were, my love, the brightest days. So starts Laura Powers album. Julia was moved to get this album purely on the basis of her name. And indeed, the songs makes me remember the LAURA powers! A year and a half after Laura's death, tears still fill my eyes easily. But now there is a bit more of the sweet mixed with the bitter. Perhaps it is the hard lessons of 'Saturn' mixed with the sweetness of the beautiful lovely 'Venusian' aspects. Oh, the pain of the rack! Transformation is not always easy. Hard the lessons those who wish to evolve must learn! Death is real, hard cold real. Love is real, bright radiant real. Tears mix pain and pleasure, that I have known such love is a blessing. Many a wanderer never finds such love! That I keep it and tell its tales is a blessing. It shall not die, I shout to the heavens and to the depths. "Stars fade like memory the instant before dawn. Low in the east the sun appears, golden as an opening eye. That which can be named must exist. That which is named can be written. That which is written shall be remembered. That which is remembered lives . . ." - from the Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. And thus it is so. I pray only that my voice get stronger as the years go by. The meaning we bring to life is not false. WE BRING IT, and it is not false. And I long for, how I long for The sweetness we have known And I long for, how I long for The wind that brings you home. So this young singer sings. Has she known of death? As in Morrigan's Quest, I align myself with the 'black raven queen of night', 'her quest, her destiny to set her people free', sending my will's aim 'swift as an arrow speeds'. We will not be forgotten! Sappho's words come to me: You may forget but Let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us From SAPPHO, a translation by Mary Barnard, Shambala Publications Aye, Sappho has not been forgotten! To you in the future, reading this, I send my sure greetings. Know well the worth we can bring to life! Ah, my reverie is complete this morning.

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