Those who have left this world,
Who have passed over,
Who are resting, Who were taken,
Who have, let's face it, died.
Don't speak of them in the past,
Like a dusty collection.
Talk of them, in present tense,
As we are still here,
so are they.
Still present, though now in memory.
That what it's like to be remembered.
The living thoughts in reflection.
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