Here, rasped the keeper, lies what thou seek
What the ground may herald, if only it could speak
Here under shattered earth, devoid of any reason
Lie those of unlike cause who now share a woeful season
Those who in anger clashed now forever clasped
An eternity to ponder a victory of ash
Here mayest thou confer, once thy grief is spent
One token, one and one only, may be lent
Under that visage grim I wondered what I might
Offer up in sorrow and tribute to this plight
What solitary offering can ease an age of suffering?
What single plea might compromise the evil born of a thousand lies?
What could bend the darkling arc of tomorrows promise broken?
What could stay the agony of a thousand cries unspoken?
What a scornful sieve, that sifts the dead from the grieved
What gift born of misery would anyone receive?
One token, one and one only
One for the sadness, one for the laughter
One for the remembrance, one for the hereafter
One for the grief past which no devoted heart may see
One for the loneliness our hearts forever flee
One for what is given, one for what is taken
One for what leaves a heart forever aching
One thought I, one token?
A reminder? A warning?
Meaningless to one in mourning
And so as life takes and gives in kind
I bore away my grief and left one tear behind