Do not speak and call it gone.
There are ways in which we are reminded.
They can never leave us.
Do not say that it is impossible.
We are shallow, imperfect, seeking greatness.
It obscures us, our sight,
darkened clouds over the bane of night.
As the sun and the moon
both rise and set, each giving chase,
we are ever growing.
Do not say that hope is hopeless.
People live in sorrow, knowing naught but fear.
Others are blessed, sleeping soundly in their beds.
But men who hope and men who dream
have all found reasons why.
Do not turn and walk away.
It may be too late by the time return dawns.
The sole companion will then be memories.
And recollections do not provide
the same comfort as does
your hand in mind.
Do not say that love is empty.
Words have meaning, a use in space and time.
Interpretation is important,
but understanding is more so.
Both are infinite.
Do not say that something has died.
A body, crumbling to dust is what remains.
A spirit, lightweight and eternal, waits still.
So long as those who loved and lost
and remember remain,
we do not truly die.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Do not speak and call it gone.
There are ways in which we are reminded.
They can never leave us.
Do not say that it is impossible.
We are shallow, imperfect, seeking greatness.
It obscures us, our sight,
darkened clouds over the bane of night.
As the sun and the moon
both rise and set, each giving chase,
we are ever growing.
Do not say that hope is hopeless.
People live in sorrow, knowing naught but fear.
Others are blessed, sleeping soundly in their beds.
But men who hope and men who dream
have all found reasons why.
Do not turn and walk away.
It may be too late by the time return dawns.
The sole companion will then be memories.
And recollections do not provide
the same comfort as does
your hand in mind.
Do not say that love is empty.
Words have meaning, a use in space and time.
Interpretation is important,
but understanding is more so.
Both are infinite.
Do not say that something has died.
A body, crumbling to dust is what remains.
A spirit, lightweight and eternal, waits still.
So long as those who loved and lost
and remember remain,
we do not truly die.
original document written circa July 2013
