When a king dies — even a flawed king
or the man who would be king, if not for all the
clouded confusion of yesteryear and the tomorrow
that seemed so out of reach...

When the would-be king who seemed once a fool
but was revealed in the end to be just a man, like you,
bids his final adieu and slips away

Into the invisible kingdom to which we all belong, 
the heart must pause to honor and break open a little more
and allow in a love for imperfection.

Take your time, my love, and let this be your opportunity
to shine a light that woudl disperse those clouds
gathering on your own life's horizon.

See that all tomorrows are for you and this day
an offering of grace, invitation to mystery — this body
broken for you, this blood shed. For you...

For you at last the waters roll out, river of justice, redemption.
And, rising to the surface, see now crystal-clear reflection,
parting gift to remember him by,

Springboard into your rightful place and possibilities
yet unimagined. Touch his face and remember then, then 
place your hand upon your heart.

Vow to do what he could not, to partake fully of this life
for you and only you, understanding at last as he whispers
from beyond of missing most 

Beautiful imperfection and the mess, quirkiness of you.
"Well done," he says, as he meant to say more often here. 
He asks you now to follow the river,

Trusting it to lead where it leads you, trusting yoursefl
to know all you know. You are ready, he says with a wistful smile.
"Go now, my son. Go."