Michael

Let your spirit soar now. Let it move as tumbleweed unrooted and free to roam. Let your spirit fly now with the freedom of a lark uncaged and ethereal. Gliding on the breeze, or as a rustle in the trees. Rolling on a riptide, or wafting on warm winds in eastern lands as they move the earthly sands of time. Your passing has released you to be what you would be; a spirit truly free; unfettered by bureaucracy and materialism. Laughing as we worldly souls trudge unceasingly in the quicksand of mediocrity, eyes down, vision tunneled as we struggle towards the light, weighed down by our mortal baggage. Laughing as in death's waiting room we are forced to check it in and we leave as we came; empty handed. We talked, we knew the secret; that the spirit holds the riches not the things that we possess. 'Tis the soul that prospers as it flies, expanding into eternity.