I wonder
If you will dream.

Are there worlds better than these?
Are there climes
Less trying?

And are you now
Far beyond the reach
Of pain
This life will bring?

The uncertain
Fragile beauty of this world
Was simply not enough
To keep you here.

Selfish
In the only way I know,
I grasp desperately for
Meaning.
Feeling the urge,
The need to glean some lesson,
Anything at all
From such a loss.

How am I to know?
Where do I go from here?
You failed to mention
That eternal peace
Would scar this badly,
And through my tears
I can only laugh at the irony.

You are beyond the hatred
And bitter bile
Of the soul of wit.
Everything that once seemed
Tenuous
Now holds fast,
And those that were once strong
Now weep in your wake.

The soul once shining
Is dimmed,
But through the remains
I remember:
You were born out of love,
And love will lead you home.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Midsummer, in the year 168 MA.