Each plea, and prayer, were like fireworks, bursting with the desire for life,
And the hope that we will take our place among the stars, once more.
We have fallen short, but we reached for it, didn’t we dear… for heaven, for each other,
And held on for as long as we could, with whatever fading light we had left.
We lived our days among the sunflowers and the wheat,
And now have been asked to return.
The poet was right, wasn’t he darling… “And the end of all our journeys…”
Come, lay in my arms while we have the twilight,
Then we will, naked and incandescent in this deepening night, prepare the ground,
Through our sorrow and our song, for those who have yet to come home.
— John Willison