In Albion’s realm, where misty moors do lie,
‘Neath ancient oak and silver sky,
A question stirs in hearts so deep,
A debate where souls and morals meet.
In halls of law and homes alike,
Where whispers rise and thoughts take flight,
Assisted dying’s call is heard,
In hushed tones and measured word.
Through corridors of time we trace,
From Hippocratic oaths to modern grace,
A journey long, both fierce and bright,
Through shadows cast by life’s last light.
In England’s green and pleasant land,
Where life and death do hand in hand,
A plea for mercy, calm and kind,
In final moments, peace to find.
For those who suffer, bodies frail,
With voices weak and faces pale,
A choice they seek, with dignity,
To end their pain, to set them free.
Yet in this isle of storied past,
Where traditions hold and shadows cast,
A struggle brews, both old and new,
Of ethics deep and justice true.
The lawmakers and healers stand,
With heavy hearts and steady hand,
To ponder laws and futures bright,
In sleepless thoughts through endless night.
For some do fear a slippery *****,
Where lives are weighed with loss of hope,
And others see compassion’s glow,
In helping those who wish to go.
Within the courts, the voices blend,
Of those who seek life’s gentle end,
And those who guard with fervent plea,
The sanctity of life’s decree.
In parlours warm and hospital halls,
The echoes rise of earnest calls,
For choice and freedom, calm and clear,
To face the end without the fear.
Yet also rings the cautioned cry,
Of hasty laws and who decide,
For life’s great gift, both pure and bright,
Must not be dimmed in darkest night.
Oh Albion, with heart so fair,
In this debate, take utmost care,
For every life, a tale profound,
In every heart, a sacred ground.
So let the voices blend as one,
In search of wisdom, never done,
To find a path both just and true,
In shadows cast by life’s last view.
Through trials hard and thoughts so deep,
In sleepless nights and dreams that keep,
May mercy guide, with steady hand,
In life’s great arc, from birth to sand.
Oh, Heavenly Father, light our way,
With wisdom’s glow, both night and day,
Grant us the grace to choose what’s right,
In shadows cast by life’s last light.
In Albion’s realm, where misty moors do lie,
May wisdom reign and spirits fly,
For in this choice, both grave and bright,
Lies the soul of mercy’s light.
I can see and understand both sides here - the question here about life or death lays deep within my soul.
