On the Death of Dr Michael Matthew Fiveash

And how can this be all? People arrive,
Grow up to learn the world, and wonder why,
Discover what they love, live, are alive,
Work to get good, and change the world, and die.
We head for that inevitable dark
All of our passion, all our caring, gone
So much inside us, leaving little mark,
Returned to mulch, and just our genes go on.

We’re born. We die. Between times we’re the source
Of real change and difference, not arranged,
Not cast upon one firm and plotted course —
All the trajectories we touch are changed.
The universe expands, new life will grow,
Our choices will inform what they will know.

26th September 2013