We’ve lost you to some kind of nameless, faceless war,
but riddled in this undefinable mess of mischance
are your names and faces,
somehow giving shape to this ghost.
Your years, too shy of old age, to grace this world longer,
you’ve left us broken here,
whispering about the empty desks,
but the empty places in our hearts still feel full
of these mournful miseries and mysteries,
our hearts, gorging themselves on sorrow and grieving.
Oh, how you are missed, your absence felt in great measure,
not only by the few and dear.
Every soul grieves as each day
seems to carry more of this tragic tale.
If dragons can be beaten, why are you gone?
For here we are, bested by the beast called death,
again collapsed in tears over this fearful fate.
Again, our arms meet each other in grief.
Our eyes say what our mouths cannot,
aching to awake from this nightmarish reality.
But even restless dreams are a comfort
compared to these waking and forlorn fates.
Death comes too swiftly,
and we, the living, have been broken.
Yet, do not despair, though broken you be,
We may be forced into silence,
when we meet our own ends,
but until that time, when the stars go out and fires melt the ground,
may our life be loud.