The
tempest left for wolves and night.
So
shall lust slay at the last hour's chime
And
the Sun will hide her loving light.
It
is browning grass among songs and flowers
Where
life passes for ground and clay.
In
seasons' change and nocturnal showers
Will
our spirits find their deepest way.
O,
guides from stars above that burn,
In
the morning so will they be gone
And
life once was shall speak in tongues
Of
sweet remembrances at dying young.
This poem is
dedicated to my childhood friend Jarrett Davis who died too young at the age
of 29, to my friend Jessica Pratt from UGA who lost her sister Elizabeth far too
early, and to Christopher McCandless, whose death and story remind me daily
that happiness is only real when shared.
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