Cometh the night. The wind falls low,
The trees swing slowly to and fro:
Around the church the headstones grey
Cluster, like children strayed away
But found again, and folded so.
In Flanders Fields
(The Night Cometh)
by John McCrae
On a sunny morning in 2001 nearly 3,000 people lost their lives in a stunning act of betrayal against humanity. The magnitude of their loss hit us all like a punch in the gut, however, we should never forget that each of the 3,000 was an individual-- with family, friends, children and lovers. The greatest loss was not in the totality, but in the loss of each individual. The passion in their lives, their laughter and the tears they shed in joy and pain were wiped away forever in a matter of hours.
Their loss should not be forgotten, nor the lesson we learned that day.
Every moment is precious.
We cannot have a single second back.
Make them all count.
Work while it is Day, the Night cometh when no man can work.
Who has left this hole in the ground?
THe Memorial Hole