On the table of sturdy union,
There sit a bowl of rice,
Served cold, and sad,
For the beloved and departed.
A death, had been.
A gust of almighty wind,
Came, gone, of sudden,
blown to the west.
Blow together are dusts of sorrows.
Speck by speck ripped his heart,
From it a river flows,
To his eyes of pale stare.
His puzzled eyes,
Of purest sadness,
Grabbed out merry me.
His empty gaze,
Clouded by a mist of grieve,
Looking straight into dark abyss
Of what may have been.
Do grieve then of resounding grieve,
Be sad then of unmending sadness,
Do mourn then of touching mourn,
Be weak then of bleeding weak.
The climb back will be tough,
As no man should do alone,
Nor alone would you be.
Let the song of him played the loudest within you,
Of blood, bones, heart.
Let him be remembered how he walked life,
Of tall, firm, grace.
Let him not be forgotten,
Of how he smile, laugh, live.
Let the light of him shine in you,
Of happiness, care, love.
On the table of sturdy union,
There sit a bowl of rice,
Served warm, and merry
For the beloved and parted.
A life, had been.
For you,
My friend,
Dearest you are,
Stronger you will be.
No comments:
Post a Comment