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Until The Last Soul Is Named...

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  • Until The Last Soul Is Named...

    "His State Of Brave Lament"


    He would tell you the grass this spring was pale and not as green and that the birds who sang forgot their lines, from time to time.
    He'd say the notes from Beethoven were proof the man went deaf.
    With a kind of dampness leaving him for days and days on end, inconsolable he lived his life in a state of melancholia and brave lament.
    Afterall, he had by now, seen so much.
    But then at times, he seemed giddy and full of foolish hope -
    and then just as sudden came the darkness that scattered his thoughts.
    His head back his eyes vacant but focused light years down that starry road,
    his grizzled mouth slack, he sat facing the down pour drowning
    while showered by the fluid glow of melting wood.
    His life was spent dousing the flames of destruction.
    His time was invested in saving that which could be saved.
    Still, despite what he knew, his laugh was loud and his eyes had a shine.
    He saw the dark the side of man time after time
    and yet...he believed in heroes.

    It would have been so easy to let him drift away like sand
    but parts of me would miss him, the parts that would never understand.
    How can the world could survive the wound of his death?
    He taught me to have faith without proof.
    He taught me to fight without knowing why.
    He taught me to endure, with no end in sight.
    And he taught me to love, because without love, nothing matters.

    So now I wait for weather that will change from rain to sun
    and keep a candle burning to bring him home again.
    I rely on the comfort of strangers and depend on the strength of a nation.
    He'd want me to pretend I am brave, so brave I shall be.

    He was a mountain of undiluted compassion and he is lost in the sea of destruction.
    But he is not alone. There are legions of others, unfound...unclaimed.
    I choose to believe he refuses to come home, until the last soul is named.

    Hero's are the first in and the last out. He was a hero to the end.
    That's who he was. That's who he is. That's how the world will remember...
    the men who died trying to take on the world -
    one battle at a time!

    (for the lost souls of the WTC)
    and the hero's who would not leave them!
    Colleen McQuaid

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