On Grief


At times of loss,
When the incandescence of life becomes as dross,
And the rhythmic tide of the passing seasons
Erodes the strongest of bonds according to the weakest of reasons.

When the sun yields to a blazing sky,
And the embers of life flicker and die;
One can learn from the crown of the Oak,
Whose magnificent array yet succumbs to winter's yoke.

Even so, the glory of this tree will be renewed
From the Infinite Source of all Being endued.
Behold! The darkness of night has not the power
To suffocate the new day at the dawn hour.

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