I’ve re-purposed this…for several different friends that have taken the long road home…simply because I’ve never been able to say it better. It gets re-purposed far too often.
As Riders, We Learned How to Live.
There’s a special few, a chosen breed
That fathom just what it is to ride
Astride their machines these men flex their wings
And twist the throttle and fly.
Death holds no terror, and no undue sway
For these pilots of the wind
It rides with us always, mere inches away
An enemy one day, an acquaintance for sure, and occasionally, one of our friends.
All men will know, when their time comes
Just what it means to die
Age and disease and a thousand other things
Conspire to shorten this life…
Some go too soon, some hope for the end
All worry for those left behind
Death comes when it does, we’ve little control
But how we greet it tells much about our life.
The chosen breed, the daring few
Will embrace what death has to give
They’ll fight to the last but go with a grin
Because as riders, they first learned how to live
We’ll CUAgain Wizard. Ride it hard.