Sitting in Michael's Lap
There is a rift in Passions
That's easy to explain:
We've got a missing poet
By the name of Echo Rhayne;
She took some drastic measures
Cause she thought she was alone ...
Never guessed how much we loved her
Never knew how fond we've grown
Of her earnest, giving spirit
And her warrior-poet's heart;
How does one describe such fondness?
How can simple words impart
All the solace of a shoulder
Where a lonely heart might cry,
Or a smile that's freely given
Doesn't need a reason why --
Dear Echo, in our hearts and prayers
Right by your side we'll be --
With love and understanding, from
Your poet family.
Come back soon ... trust in God and this, too, shall pass ...
"Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morierus"
(Now as I hear this bell tolling softly for another, it says to me, "Thou must die.")