Bolt Thrower

Remembering promises,
Once made but now unspoken,
Born of child like minds,
These shadows of the past are now
forsaken.
From the dawn of your first day,
To this death bed on which you lay,
To survive we must comply,
With the ritual of your life.
Can you remember things we said,
The dreams our expectations,
Like ashes scattered in the wind,
There is no recollection.
Throughout the passing years,
Faith will allay your years,
Follow the holy rites,