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Sometimes there are pages that turn
When you're not sure they should,
And there are deadly fires that burn
That you know can't be good.
Ever more you wonder
That you can’t understand
Why there’s life torn asunder
From both woman and man.
Loved by their friends
You can’t seem to fathom
That so soon came their ends,
And what you’ll do without them.
“To die well,” an old poem is read,
But what comfort is that
To those left by the dead
Alone, saddened and upset?
They traded their lives for the rest
Of all noble causes
This seems almost best
Though it results in quiet pauses
To mourn of the passing
Of our best of friends,
Closer than twin-born siblings
Or our nearest of kin.
Spirits like angels rise to the morn
Wish they weren’t leaving behind
Friends and family, afraid and torn
Without a comfort except their own mind.
So the last angel's gone
From the clear morning sky
And you wonder as it dawns
Why another had to die.
In Memoriam
Chrone/Sailor Cathar
Mihrau/Shiroi Knight
