We all have the moments
that hit with force,
driving home what matters
with the sutble grace of a sledge.
A woman mourns
a child man,
barely beyond boy
for the life he might have known,
for the man he might have been,
for the days he will not grace,
remembering the life of him.
How can that be...no more?
But I tell you gentle lady,
no life is wasted,
no spirit lost
when they had the power
to touch your heart,
and make themselves at home
with your spirit.
Life calls to life
robust,
bold,
and "promise" is illusion.
What made this one so precious
is not that he has died---
but that he knew so very well
how to live his days.
that hit with force,
driving home what matters
with the sutble grace of a sledge.
A woman mourns
a child man,
barely beyond boy
for the life he might have known,
for the man he might have been,
for the days he will not grace,
remembering the life of him.
How can that be...no more?
But I tell you gentle lady,
no life is wasted,
no spirit lost
when they had the power
to touch your heart,
and make themselves at home
with your spirit.
Life calls to life
robust,
bold,
and "promise" is illusion.
What made this one so precious
is not that he has died---
but that he knew so very well
how to live his days.



