It Was Meant to Be

by Logan Gray Darkholme

To my son without a name,

Forged from the clay of Prometheus.

Maybe it was meant to be,

That you are no longer here.

Are you in The House of Hades now?

Or perhaps in Elysium.

I hope you are in Elysium because while

You are not here; you are my hero.

You would be twelve this June 12th.

I hoped you would be strong, mischievous.

My little warrior,

My little fox.

And since you are no longer here,

To laugh amongst the trees,

To love with a wild passion,

I will have to do it for you.