Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the detailsof how he lived that distinguishes them.
It was a morning much like this,gray, barren hills, mourners in black~white-laced altar boys scrunched together.They seemed to shift to the right—we could see their stamina wane.All the black cars parked idly by,not a solitary popinjay in the sky.The priest said a new prayer for you.We anticipated your voice with the rush of the wind.Media not permitted inside the cemetery…the departed stand elevated on mornings like this.
Causes Roman Long Supports
The Trevor's Project.