was the end of an era when the old knight died.
Wrinkled and worn, he drew his last shallow breath
In the cool autumn air of a simple monastery,
Comfortable in his down duvet,
With a caring monk in attendance
And a devoted nephew at his side.
As the stars twinkled outside his window,
His own light faded.
I remember the wise and famous knight from my youth at court.
We all gathered around when he and his brothers-in-arms recounted their adventures.
With the old king, they traveled across the land,
Ceasing the invasion of our neighbours in a great and glorious battle.
Then, when peace was finally won,
Ranging the countryside, defending the people,
And righting wrongs in the name of chivalry.
Now when I look around, none of the faces are the same.
A new generation has taken over the court -
Bright and fresh, with new ideas they rule this land.
And so I mourn the knight's passing,
And the passing of an era as well.
No matter what comes now, it will never be the same.
For better or worse, the past is gone.
I watch the passing of the funeral procession,
The lowered flags, the throng of moist-eyed friends and strangers in black,
And I think back to all those who gathered at his bedside these past few months.
I realize it is a testament to the character of the man -
The goodness of his life and the kindness he instilled in others.
Although the knight and his generation have passed on,
Their spirit lives on inside of us.
October 22, 2006