Hidden Springs, Delicate Wheels: Easter Eve Morning, 1865

The timing was poetic in a way:
Ironic even to the very day
that Jesus (Grace! amazing!) sacrificed
His life for the redemption of each man
and woman who believe unto Salvation.
Last night, a new betrayer's perfidy
raised up the shadows of assassination;
a single shot has sealed your destiny.
Like you, he changed the course of History
(You were inspired by an eternal truth;
but this assault sprang from a vengeful guile,
a vaunting villain lurking in a booth.)
Next morning's dim dawn brings your final breath.
Your soul, however, does not die in death;
but leaves your body with a peaceful smile;
then soars skyward to meet the regnant Christ
and, waiting for you in His Kingdom . . . Ann.

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