A dull sense of emptiness becomes me,
I am but a fraction of this great man.
Who lies peaceful in his eternal rest,
Leaving the mournful remaining to stand.
The living room died as he faded away,
The aura stripped to monochrome.
The world that was once in colour,
Had hardened, set in grey stone.
Wailing cries of a woman in the distance,
Brings me to my senses once again.
The scent of incense sticks saunters,
grave in solemn faces: friends.
A pat of assurance on the shoulder,
What meaning is this to me now?
My inspiration, my master, is gone;
Solace never again to be found.
The panic ripples amongst the children,
Trembling lips, smooth faces, they hide.
And in their youth they are sheltered,
From the pain, for us, that’ll never subside.
I envisage a golden paradise;
And I know that he watches us now,
With stars and the moon as his cover,
In the heavens he rests, crowned.
The proud keeper of our name and glory,
The father of the world it seemed.
The go-to man for permission,
The inspirer of successful dreams.
But that doesn’t alleviate the loss,
Or justify him being stolen away.
I hope that he can provide shelter,
To a lost soul waiting, and many more like mine, I pray.