To you the lost one,
Awake upon your blackened tomb,
You dawn cut off so briskly,
Lest the vigor of your youth,
Be allowed to mature.

Turbulence thy name is nature,
Crashing upon the fragile beings,
Inhabiting before you,
Always attempting control,
Always failing in calamity.

To the one recovered,
The belligerent to a engulfing tomb,
The world looked upon thee,
As hope, in an ever changing present,
Your invincibility always certain,
Destroyed in the inkling of time,
Subdued but never surrendered.

To those who souls have vanished,
The ever-present role of life,
Expressed in the love,
Of a now lost generation.

The warmth of the smile,
A the affection of the love,
May be forgotten in these troubles times,
Void of the vigor of the now lost youth,
Celebration submerged beneath the seas of misfortune,
The fates had cut three strands.

If all comes down to silence,
You will be known in youth.