In the grand and storied hall of life,
There sits a row of empty seats,
For souls departed from the strife,
And left behind their earthly feats.

Each chair a tale of joy or woe,
Of triumphs won and battles lost,
Of love that bloomed and friendships grow,
Of dreams fulfilled at any cost.

In the first seat, a soldier sits,
His uniform worn ragged and torn,
His eyes still fixed on distant pits,
Where he faced death, where he was born.

Beside him sits a woman fair,
Her hair a halo of silver light,
Her hands still clasped in fervent prayer,
For her lost love, forever in sight.

The next seat holds a scholar wise,
His books and papers spread about,
His mind still lost in learned guise,
His wisdom sought, his words devout.

And in the seat that follows on,
A child sits with a tear-streaked face,
Her innocence forever gone,
Her heart still yearning for embrace.

Each empty seat a story tells,
Of lives lived full, of dreams untold,
Of battles fought and ringing bells,
Of hearts that fluttered, then turned cold.

But as the hall begins to fade,
And shadows lengthen in the gloom,
The empty seats begin to fade,
As souls find rest and leave the room.

For in the end, we all must go,
To join the ranks of those before,
To take our place in endless flow,
And leave behind the earthly shore.

So let us cherish every seat,
Each empty one, each filled with life,
For in the end, we all must meet,
And leave behind our earthly strife.


#EmptySeats
© Jane.tinioworks