On the day he was born I saw
God had sent an angel to hold me through life's storm,
to grant me opportunity,
again, to find some better way.

Some weeks later, when you blessed him,
in chance encounter that was nothing of the sort,
I thought perhaps that it could be
that life would spare him, you and me.

Now far from words and such a hope,
I am one with presence profound, though lost at sea—
caught up in a meaningless tome,
alone, again without mercy.

The light, the light, the light, the light...
It is all I ever see, even if a dream
of some alternate life without
a death of Beauty's innocence.

If Love can be resurrected
then cannot this dying dream be brought back to life?
Could God not yet offer this gift,
reversal of fortune for him?

See that small boy in cowboy boots
whose heart had seen so much through time and still believed
in life's goodness. See his mother who did her best
but lost her way and failed the test.