That's that.

The trumpets have fallen silent, the air has cleared of smoke
The drums no longer shake me and it’s too long since we spoke
Now famine makes its march, across fields of green and gold
The dancers have been banished, the laughter has been sold
All the trees are weeping willows and the honey-dew; despair
When I look to see you walking and will never find you there
The rivers have been frozen, the turbulent made calm 
All words resounding hollow, even those of precious psalm
The light of life is tempered, the joy-filled eyes entombed
How the fires of anger rise up! Reason is consumed
The ground heaves and rends, tearing caverns of regret
And then all falls silent, and the soul is left bereft
In the darkness stalks a beast, its jowls drip with guilt
All the defences that you had once, like Jericho's walls did wilt
And a sure and daunting terror takes refuge in the night
That one must fall and stumble and be swept by grief’s relentless tide
This is the curse of the living, when love has had its day
This is the fall of the curtain, when life has had its say
These are the rules that were carved out, before we opened our eyes
This is the seal that is broken when a person that matters, dies
The debt of pain is greater when that person brought you all…
Then, once the night has raged and passed, and dawn, soft and sober wakes
Like the respite in a storm, like the rounding of the waves
Like a spear of sun in lead and grey and smoothing of the deep
Like the stirring of the child from their dark and troubled sleep
There is a day that warms and greets you, with ribbons of delight
So as scattered clouds combine to mottle grey with gold respite
The loss entwined with memory to braid a strong and wholesome thread
Out of which we weave a future which speaks fondly of our dead
And His quiet whispers speak of sovereign plans and sovereign grace
In time’s mirror, in calm reflection, we see the pieces fall into place
All those twists and turns of chaos, were in fact, the best laid plan
All the pain and doubt and longing was in his loving hands
While the thunder’s sometimes distant, sometimes close and bearing down
Strength returns to weary limbs, like souls to a swift deserted town
Life’s stride and gait does settle to an even footfall, ever sure
At times, eyes closed and peaceful, the world makes sense once more