You nor I can fathom,
The screaming motherless child,
The pain of a man, a soldier with nothing left to fight for,
A family left homeless by the treacherous sea.

This is not a poem of pity,
Nor one of remorse,
It is a poem of remembrance.

A poem to remind us of what we have,
What we have before we lose it,
Before it is ripped from our grasp by the ice cold touch of inevitability.
The resounding truth that we will all loose something precious to us,
That we gain something much more than knowledge and wisdom.

Through every death,
Every lost accomplishment,
Every calamitous dream,
It only makes us stronger.

Stronger not in mind but heart,
Better fighters against the failure we appear to have,
We have soul, we have fight;
We have... a reason to carry on.

To give that child a better life,
To give that man a reason to live;
To rebuild that house with the simple pleasure.
To make the death of someone mean something;
Have them look down on us in pride.
Love begets pain begets accomplishment;
But in our soul, our beating hearts.

The End

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