A Posthumous Chronicle: The Elder's Son: The Years Before, The Years After Poem by Justus Cyril E

1. Interlude: The Echo Before the Dawn

Before the winds carried sorrow upon their wings,
There was a season of laughter woven into the very soil of ancestry.
The prince, whose name rests now upon sacred breath,
Walked among mortals with the ease of one born to peace.
He sowed harmony where strife once dwelt,
And filled the corridors of time with unbroken warmth.

In those days, the kingdom knew no dusk—
Only sunlight resting gently upon ancient stones,
And the gentle hum of a life lived with purpose.
Every path he touched blossomed with memory,
Every step became a prophecy unspoken.

His laughter stirred the winds,
His words anchored the restless,
And his presence made seasons brighter
Than the sun dared to imagine.

These were the years before—
The years of fullness, of communion, of uncounted blessings.
And though they are gone, they live again
Each time the heart remembers.

2. Chapter I: The Years That Were

In the tapestry of days long recorded,
His journey unfolded with steps both mortal and divine.
He grew into strength, not by conquest,
But by compassion forged in silent hours.

The kingdom bore witness to his rise—
Not as a warrior alone,
But as a steward of hearts,
A guardian of peace,
A nurturer of broken things.

Here were the seasons of toil and triumph,
Where he labored with hands both gentle and firm.
He shaped destinies with quiet resolve.
And carved legacies into hearts, not walls.

The years that were…
They stood like mountains—
Unshifting, unwavering, unforgotten.
They hold the weight of what made him,
And what he made of the world around him.

3. Chapter II: The Breaking of the Dawn After

Then came the day when the light dimmed,
The hour when silence claimed the voice
That once stirred courage in the weak.

The kingdom trembled.
The walls sighed.
The earth bowed beneath the weight of grief.

But even in absence, he refused to fade.
His memory rose like morning over valleys of sorrow.
And grief learned to kneel before gratitude.

These were the years after—
The years shaped by longing,
By remembrance,
By the gentle ache of what once was.

Yet the kingdom did not fall.
It learned to walk again.
Carrying his legacy like a torch
Through corridors of time he once illuminated.

4. Chapter III: The Age of Now

Now we stand in the era shaped by echoes.
His presence lingers in the veins of the living.
His teachings engraved upon the marrow of the land.

The world moves,
Yet his imprint remains unwavering.
For he is not confined to memory—
He is carved into identity.

In the age of now,
We speak his name not with sorrow alone,
But with reverence for the immortal seeds he planted.

Every act of compassion carries his breath.
Every moment of courage bears his shadow.
Every whisper of wisdom reflects his spirit.

The kingdom stands.
Not merely remembering him,
But becoming the very things he embodied—
Valor, Strength, Wisdom, and Grace.

5. Transitional Epilogue: The Prince Beyond Time

Time may turn its pages,
But his chapter refuses to close.

He walks not behind us,
But ahead—
A guide in realms unseen,
A guardian beyond the veil,
A prince whose crown has become eternal.

The story continues.
For his life was not a moment,
But a movement—
A river flowing from yesterday into forever.