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Guy Wyndham-Jones

To realize our loss is yonder's gain,
May not bring succour or relief from pain,
When breath itself seems to perpetuate
The shocking gap death wills to generate,
Between the departed and the left behind -
A constant legacy of human kind.
Nor does there ever seem to be a time
When death is welcome as a good sublime;
Too young, too old, too healthy, too infirm,
Too premature to end this earthly term,
Are all the cries throughout our history -
The cries of torment and of misery.
Yet from an overview it can be seen
All that has happened and what might have been,
If all our ardent wishes were fulfilled,
Those of the wise, the clever, and unskilled.
But this the precinct of the Gods remains,
To know what would have been, what earthly gains
And losses benefit the human soul,
What truly tends her nearer to her goal.
And thus the loss of one beloved and true,
The Gods decree, from wisdom's overview,
Is finite, for a time - the loss will end,
And re-united will be friend to friend,
And lover to the loved, in time to see,
That death is granted by divinity
As true re-birth of life and purity,
The path to lasting peace - serenity.


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