Only the dead are perfect. We can see
Beyond their end, and map the straightest trail
They could have taken to the victory
Of all their dreams. We never let them fail.
The land of Might-Have-Been has many stories,
But none are tragedies. We end them all
With happiness, with perfect love, with glories—
Up comes the winner; down goes the wall.
It is the country where Would Have is king—
Two words that rule the dead like Should and Must
Command obedience from everything
That enters life as flesh and leaves as dust:
The perfect dead, whom we still guide through strife
To victories they never won in life.
Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells