~
we are the sum of our whole,
though the soul until death,
is largely unknown.
our words and our deeds,
whatever our needs,
outliving, outpacing
our to-the-end racing,
until all has been
thought, said and done.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all the dear ones departed,
when distilling’s begun.
i believe Antony was wrong,
for the good that men do
lives after them long;
and like sickness, any ill
is interred with their bones.
misdeeds are forgotten,
harsh words set aside,
remembered the kindness,
the love and the pride.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all dear ones departed,
here distilling’s begun.
when the fallen lie in repose,
what’s given in secret,
done deeds not for show;
words gifted are sifted,
here goodness is known.
a life time well-lived
remains hidden not long;
here defeat is forgotten,
only victories won.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all dear ones departed,
then distilling’s begun.
within twilight’s stilling,
begins the distilling;
the good left behind,
in loved ones instilling.
~
*post script.
“travel light; enjoy the journey”
words a son lived by, distilled,
only in death.
we are still...
learning,
still...
distilling,
the depth and the breadth of his life.