Death, a rude reminder of man’s mortality. 

It sucks but die, we must.

I lost someone, it knocked me for six.

We had our issues, the source of my grief.

Life is short.

Too short not to be open and honest with the people around us.

Too short not to iron out disputes, settle misunderstandings.

To short not to paint our visions, live out our dreams.

Too short to sit around twiddling our thumbs.

Too short to live in the past, neglecting the present.

Too short to live each day in fear and despair.

Too short not to laugh and enjoy living.

Too short to lose faith, give up on giving.

Too short not to embrace the things that matter most.

Too short to turn your back on blood; your flesh, your bone.

Life is short.

What do you die leaving?

What memories, for the hearts, here still beating?

Sleep in peace, we’re no longer at war.

I’ll remember you, without your scabbard and sword.

Never Let You Go

Impressed, Imprinted, Carved

Etched into the depth of my soul

The words you spoke, when you held me close;

‘I’ll never let you go.’


I rave and I rant

Sometimes I shrug off your hand

As it stills me, steadies me,

Keeps me from tipping, falling


Over the edge,

Into the abyss that waits beneath me

You catch me, rein me in

My anchor, the ground fused to the soles my feet


Never shifting, never shaken

True to death, to the words that escaped your lips

The words you spoke, when you held me close;

‘I’ll never let you go.’


© Waila Caan