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...