Touch not the fading embers for a flame hides within
reaching out to grasp ahold you would only burn your hand
There is no roaring fire within the powdered ashen soot
nothing more than coals remain cooling in the morning breeze
But oh the happy memories of the dance, song, and feast
joyous time and merriment what wonderous gleeful fun
Yet all things pass as all things must despite our wishful hopes
on we go back home knowing we will soon be here again
Without that faithful knowledge my heart would be too heavy
so with gladness do I take my leave confident in trust
A day will come when we will be as we were once before
but if we go to different feasts then fare thee well, my friend
