Look, there is Life, under the cypress tree,
A refugee displaced from tempered souls.
Watch as it flies from Death’s uncaring flows,
And how it eats the strongest soldiers. See?
Where there is Time, then living, Life will be,
Yet even as time fades the glowing coals
Of Life, the more that every life unfolds—
As Death should take us each, eventually,
For sorting all to heaven or to hell,
To flee: futile, but Life will live to tell
That evermore as Death destroys one living,
Another life shall rise to take its place.
Look, there is Life, warmed by our living blaze.
The cypress tree in death firmly believing.