the prince of snails
an unmarked pauper's grave
a sinner and a saint
now crowned in silent majesty
among the great unsung
the kindness of his hand
enshrined hour glass sand
drowning the stars still dazzling
and fading in the morn
it was an honor
it was a pleasure
it was a glory
it was my treasure
it was the purpose
of life's adventure
to have known and loved and cared for all
a shelter from the weather
sleeping i don't dream
your poor heart troubled, too
with things no one has need to know
and things no one can do
in puzzled geometric
blown in a silent wind
i can't remember anything
except that one time when
it was an honor
it was a pleasure
it was true glory
it was a tresure
it was the purpose
of life's adventure
to have known and served and cared for all
enveloped in endeavor
time crawls and years fly by
once more the fireflies
with no lace of fear in love
perhaps the fields will grow
nowhere to where you are, journey
nowhere to where you are, journey
nowhere to where you are, journey
nowhere to where you are, journey
it was an honor
it was a pleasure
it was true glory
it was a treasure
it was the purpose
of life's adventure
to have known and served and cared for all
in overflowing measure