To be bound to him in body and soul is more than I could know.
In spirit, we remain dissonant in our difference in parity.
To the edge of lived time, in connected separation do we grow.
In fate, we remain intertwined despite our disparity.
To be known to him lives to be more than a small grace.
In essence, his sheer presence is a gift that lives to be fine.
To be part of his descendancy is to have found a place.
In blood, his breath of life in turn gave to me mine.

It does not impart to speak of the reality of his strife.
It would not suffice to say he knew a fate that was terrible.
It does not do justice to begin to speak of this one precious life.
It would not be enoughto say his enduring existence is a miracle.
He long found his place sealed in the Heavens Above, in respite.
Sacred lives the sanctity of the spirit that goes on, in spite.