|
Laura, long gone, and I cannot reclaim her. She is oft to where? Best in memory, no reclaiming hand can otherwise fetch her. Best her spirit fly free. I know not where else she is needed, so she must fly free, though my heart break. All that I am or will ever be has been touched by her love - that must be enough. Osirus is the God of the Dead, and We are the Living. Let us hold now the gift that we have and say it again, "We are the living." Hold in memory our dear treasures, maybe a candle light there, But We are the living. Let us then live and hold fast to what we have. We are the living. It is only we who can sing the songs of the dead. They are gone. But we are here and these songs are ours. Let the flame burn within. We are the living. Let nothing else avail - we are the living. This day and always, we are the living. And when we are gone, another will sing this song.
|
