Man Whose Son I Am





You took your last breath today.
I am not a son anymore.
My roots are in this universe,
in the process of life and death.
Even the stars and suns die.

I am glad I was able to love you for a while.
I am proud to be a man carrying your sketch
as a remembrance of the life that you lived.

Death is a part of life
and it takes place everywhere.
But one thing I do not understand:
Why do people kill?



Soultrips
[an error occurred while processing this directive]