But it's the spark that moved the living meat ⠀ The spirit, so we say, when poets sing⠀ An hour's difference makes the change complete⠀ And what was quick becomes a colder thing⠀ So whence that spark, we ask, and always have ⠀ To Path or Hall, it's sure that we don't know
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In memory we live beyond the Grave⠀ And go the way our fate gives us to go⠀ ⠀ So flesh to soil and bone to stone I give⠀ Your breath upon the wind, beneath the sky⠀ Let life be life, and all the living live ⠀ Until the very hour that we die. ⠀ - Rev. Ian Corrigan - ⠀
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