Swiftly fly the hours along their way,
Changing day to night and night to day,
Advancing, merciless, along their path,
Naught else on earth such hell-bent fury hath,
Days and weeks, eons and decades all,
Dance and celebrate the funeral pall,
And humans, though frail candles we may be,
Possess some measure of longevity,
For when we die, ‘tis true, to dust we go,
Yet able to leave legacy below,
When we are laid beneath the dirt and sod,
And must needs soon be answerable to God,
The memory of our deeds abideth still,
What’s more, what we believed, time cannot kill,
So mourners, take your hour now to weep,
But as the poet said, we’ve promises to keep,
And miles to go before we sleep.
 

*I attended a funeral yesterday.