Epitaph
The epitaph has been read,
For the man with no grave,
With eternity as his bed.
The very love he gave,
Turned out to be his snare,
To destiny he was a slave.
Yet the signs were there,
Turn back or be lost,
Still he did not despair.
He said there could be no cost,
That he was unwilling to pay,
No path would be left uncrossed.
He went with a smile they say,
Leaving an emptier man behind,
As with his love he passed away.
What answers will he find,
The better part of me that’s gone,
Yet, his cause worthy, he died happily in his mind,
And what more can one ask, in a world where everything seems so wrong.
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