The strangest thing about losing you
Is that we haven’t just lost you.
Somewhere a brother is grieving his twin,
a storyteller is stepping through a gate,
and shield bearers are kneeling in troubled memory.
But here is what I like to imagine:
In another world that is both ours and not,
a man cast in moonlight takes up a sword
(that he’ll still never grow into)
and marches forward into battle.
They call him Sparkshield, you see –
guardian of the soul. He is the hope in the dark.
And hope, much like this man,
and much like the love raging in his heart,
is as immortal as the stories he’s yet to become.