Goodbye Friend.

For a friend that did more in 33 years than most will ever do in 100 years, for a friend who died doing what he loved the most....



Flight is a freedom in its purest form,
to dance with the clouds that follow the storm;
to roll and glide, to wheel and spin;
to feel the joy that swells within.

To leave the Earth with its troubles and fly,
and to know the warmth of a clear spring sky;
then back to earth at the end of the day,
released from the tensions, which melted away.

Should my end come when I am in flight,
whether brightest day or darkest night;
spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
secure in the knowledge that I'd do it all again!

For each of us is created to die
and within me I know,
I was born to fly!