Sunday, February 17, 2013

Dying Young.

Dying Young.

Death you see, is
A kind of doorway.
It leads from now into tomorrow,
And a new ventured horizon of life.

But we don't really know,
Just what life holds in store.
As it closes down the light,
But opens up a brighter door.

Dying young seems a waste,
Of brilliance yet to come.
Snubbed in a flash of wretchedness,
Where love should have stayed and won.

Such vitality covered over,
Shot away from beauty's eyes.
Put out of reach from loved ones,
But maybe adding legend to the skies.

In our earthly hearts, is
A sorrowfulness for all that's gone.
We grieve to pay respect for them,
And remember them with joyful song.

Dying young steals growth,
From more than they that perish.
We, dying in our own ways again,
Suffer damage of all the joy we cherish.

Cold and lonely winds arrive,
In silence our bitter tears parade.
But what has purpose brought for them,
When life on earth so short is made ?

What has begun now crushed,
Under foot of deaths own love.
A kindness none shall see of him,
Caused a bitterness, hate for love.