This time in life is granted only excerpts from the greater toll
that beckons in its rhythm, moments for a wanting soul,
to live, to gain, to give through pain,
to know the love of those who love and in it never feel the drain
of moments bound to dust.
For time is short in living, our pleasures mount our memory,
that in the end at final breath we count them all in reverie.
The souls we touch are here for us, each blessing granted in return,
that when we give of what we know we share the things we most must learn.
Some I’ve known have slipped beyond the current’s blood of beating heart,
yet each in turn gave gracefully a blessing sweet, instilled as art
in loving what their time did grant, in knowing kindness true,
in setting place for time again to sit and talk a few.
I know in true reflection that my silence seems quite empty now,
but grief is for the living, yet through it, all I see is how
they touched me with their gentle hands, and smiled form their truest source,
so granted me a piece of God in whispers held along my course.
Yet still the echoes’ silence rings when by their empty home I pass,
and sadness fills the emptiness that I must hold for them, alas…
it is my purpose rent for them, recalling all the times we knew,
recalling conversations long, now seeming much too few.
God grant them peace and blessings, grant the love for them I show,
hold them close in comfort knowing that the best in them is what I know.