For he is gone, for he is dead
For he has left and left us dead.
No!  Wilt not yet young flowers,
Flourish still.
Thy lost flow hast merely chosen
For God's table vase.
Radiate they iridescence to the eyes!
Captivate still.

For he is gone, for he is dead.
For we go on, recall instead
Dreams a dreamy man conceived
Of a flower garden, watered well
Flourishing its beauty.
Every seed of soil meticulously placed
To watch the roots grow shoots
Shooting into the sky
Capturing glorious warmth from the dreamer,
Of a thousand dreams
Come true.

For he is gone, for he is dead
Think not that, conceive instead,
Were thy flowers shall come to be
The dreamer who did succeed
Bequeaths to you
To dream

Dream through walls
Befalling the best
And become thy exalted one.