The clinging fog, the swirling fog
in tenuous game of fate
The final dance upon still waters
in vaporous gentle skate
Departure nears to another place...
a last bow to Eastern sky
The Morning Star will soon appear
for the time is near to die
Such beauty and warmth greet final breaths
in hues of orange and gold
Too late to brood, embrace old fog
promised winds from days of old
Purification's eternal play...
earthly sighs at heaven's gate
Be poured out from Perfect Chalice...
for The King, Our Lord awaits.
Merciful change, a new dance beckons
on waters of grace and Truth
Disperse old fog this temporal...
that the clouds may receive you
goodnight...and good morning My beloved
Ron 2003
Psalms 116:15
Precious in the sight of the Lord Is the death of His saints.
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