Like a huntsman lies in wait for a creature of flight, vicious fate struck like a blow straight to the chest.
Like a creature of darkness seeks to devour light, the gentle bird’s feathers drank in red in the crest.
The stains his departure left could never go away; like bloodstains, these marks will not fade.
On his grave did tender blooms, sweet as he, lay; or such a bitter bed eventuality had made.

The cruel tendrils of time reached out to him, curling from within his veins into his bones.
Left ensnared in a vice-grip, insidious and grim, violence snaked its way towards his heart and soul.
Fallen from the razor cut of time’s swift blade, the wings had been clipped off from this dove.
Slowly but surely, vital life force did fade, ripping him from the embrace of his love.

With a hand so cruel and another so kind, the angel of life does give and take.
This soul brought light so difficult to find; unforgettable is the life he did create.
God blessed him with innumerable gifts, for he was filled with love and more.
He radiated kindness and understanding, and burned with compassion from his very core.

I hope the kind caress of an angel alights upon him, and soothes the strife he yet knows.
In life, death, and eternity thereafter, we all pray that peace for him only grows.
The promise of time was shared, and it had been forsook; what he lost cannot now be retrieved.
He was a gift that was given, and he had been took; for the rest of these lives, we will grieve.

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I wrote this for my uncle, Omar Shah.