I Have a Beating Heart

I have a beating heart inside my chest; Not so the man today we laid to rest. Who mourn him loved him so, and always will, Though his heart cease to beat and now is still. The many paths we choose while still we live Lead us to love, to hate, and to forgive. Why not rejoice one when has laid to sleep? Inside our hearts, their memories we keep. The dash upon the grave that marks our stay May never tell the whole tale, yet it may. Between two dates, the dash shows we were here, As short the time it may have been, so clear. Inside my chest, my beating heart reveals That I still live, and thus, my soul still feels. It tells me that no matter what’s been done, Less God, not one can touch me; no, not one. It takes much more than breath and sight to be Alive, for many live who cannot see, And many live who cannot hear or speak, And strong ones may not outnumber the weak. Our senses by themselves determine not If we are living, yet this we forgot. It takes much more than working heart or brain. Among these, it takes laughter, love, and pain. Not that our senses have no consequence, But loving life requires much more than sense. To fully live, we must learn how to cry. To live, we must accept our fate: to die. It requires mistakes and triumphs both; It takes friendship, happiness, and growth; To feel the sun, the wind, the rain and heat, And in doing, we feel our hearts beat. To really live, we cannot fight our fate; We must learn how to act and how to wait. It takes all these for us to do our part, But most of all, it takes a beating heart.