Procession stopped,
The speech was brief.
The people sobbed
So deep in grief.
And in my mind
The question hung -
The boy who died
Was so young!
Why could not let
The cruel fate
Him overlive
The age of eight?
A man doesn't know
His limit
Be ready to go
Every minute.
But try to foresee
With your mind's eyes -
The spirit is freed
When the flesh dies.
The end only means the beginning
Of the higher 'behind the scenes' living.
Ottawa, Canada, 1999 - Leuven, Belgium, 2016