From somewhere in the night a faint whisper comes from beyond this life-
A whisper of previous pain, battles filled with blood and strife-
I awake to the dark with the memory of that which was and will be again-
No matter how I try to build a better world, no matter how hard I try humanities world to mend-
In my sleep I hear the sound of pipes and the clash of arms, the screams of the dying-
That I can not make it stop, that it repeats it’s self is not from lack of trying-
Would that the gods would allow me to craft a solution to all this pain and sorrow-
That with some magical potion or some brilliant act I could craft a better tomorrow-
But this world, life after life is but a school for learning-
It is the mistakes one makes from which one learns answers to spiritual growth, for wisdom yearning-
The pain of loss of those we love teaches us the value of their love and friendship-
It is what binds our souls into that eternal association, the soul’s kinship-
To accept love of companions and lovers means also we accept in this life will come their last breath-
That we will know sorrow after the joy of their company must come their death
But we hold on tightly to their memories until in another life we meet in association-
Again to hold the hand, again to feel the warmth, again to know the comfort from another time’s summation-
Each life a brief struggle against the dark and unknown ahead-
Each life a bit more spiritual grown, a bit more ignorance banished, on the path to the Light we are led-
Yes in the dark of the night, in sleep the echoes of the past, the present and the future merge as one-
So it will be until our journey of learning, spiritual growth, pilgrimage to the pure Light is done-
So cry not for the pain, the sorrow of life and deaths dance through the ages towards that goal-
The pain, sorrow, joy, fear, blood sweat and tears is the cost of food for growth of the journey of the soul.
Embrace what comes to you in those whispers, cast them not aside or harden your thoughts against them-
Those faint whispers are memories of what was, what is, what will be, it is a joyous life’s hymn-
Be not afraid as tears of pain and sorrow of loss and age makes one’s sight grow dim with time-
The price of life is death, both must come to those we love and ourselves, this makes life and death rhyme-
As this long road to new worlds we trod with those who we have known and loved before-
We together shall face each battle, each joy, each sorrow, together we shall learn more-
The many childhoods, the many times the old worn body is laid beneath the earthly sod-
life and death is but a pass word to open all the shut doors between us and our Creator God-

The Ole Dog!