What is the essence of a dying man,

His power leaching back into the earth?

His legacy, while cast a story grand

Soon eulogized—by lofty words rehearsed.

But what remains when he at last is gone—

Bombastic praise by which proud life is scored,

Brief gilded verses of a life-long song

Refined beyond all truth and into lore?

What if we said: he lived, he laughed, he loved,

Saw sunrise and sunset as much the same,

Gave glory to the Power that reigns above…

Saw death as but the ending of a game?

Humility forthright to move the crowd—

Where now the mourning bells peal twice as loud.