Rest is but a form,
Of laughter and the norm,
Of what we think and feel.
I like to think of you,
The level and the flight,
Reality of plight,
So serious and true.
With all we think and feel,
And all that it appears,
I hope Our Maker hears,
Our lifetime holy deal.
The life that we once gave,
Our heart sacrificed there,
On the altar of our care,
For all that we behave.
When we're gone, we'll live on,
Our words were heard,
Our thoughts and lives merge,
Our way, our life, our song.
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