We, the living and the dead
Are met here,
To mourn our loss,
Standing beside the grave
To stare blankly at the awesome stillness of his death.

Count us lucky to be mourned
Count us lucky to have lived,
Lucky to breathe fresh air.

Give him good passage
For boats will sail with the tide
And time will pass.

Tears fall.
Grief wounds,
But joy like life will rise
Like bubbles in a glass
To heal the pain.

So it is and will be
As long as the world turns.

We miss him and his life
And are the poorer now
Though richer for our sorrow and our grief
And all he gave and all he ever was.

Give him good passage
And give him peace.
Boats must sail
As time will heal
And rest will come.