Having To Bury Your Young Poem by Christopher's Dead

How swiftly day turns to night
When the mind is not focused on the rays of the sun
But rather on the joy and the warmth that it brings.
And as the summer days fade,
The radiating glow of the sunset
Reflects the ever-changing palette of life left before us
In a cool serenade of zephyrs and auroras.
The leaves grow tattered and worn
To a never displeasing ascent of colors
That dance longingly to the whims of the wind.
Such the grace flows through nature
Encompassing the delicate nature of our hearts
And embodying the innocence that loses hold on us all.
How beauty and sunlight each disappear
Resonates the suddenness of an end to earthly being
That a winter chill would beg for the return of summer.
Demonstratively, all that seems to have a place
Removes itself from whence it has meaning,
Only to be placed in a grander respect
To the heavenly world around it.
And all that we love, and all that we miss,
Although sadly taken as soon as we grow to love
Yet not long enough to hopes and prayers,
Does not leave in renouncement of such a place,
Nor in just cause from its scenery,
But in a higher significance and understanding
That we cannot perceive until our own day of judgment.
For the loss that lies does not do so,
But rises above us all out of the necessity of God,
And that one day we too can experience heavenly Grace.

R.I.P.
Michael