Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Dying Young

All blooms as right for fields and time,
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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