He walked the world a giant soul, A maker of tales, a heart made wide; His martial grace, his iron role, Could never mask the warmth inside. A fighter’s stance, a comic spark, Karate bones and laughter’s fire; He lit the room, dispelled the dark, With charm that asked you to admire. But sickness came with ruthless speed, It took his body day by day; Yet dignity refused to cede, He held his spirit in the fray. At hospice, cards around his bed— A quiet chorus, love displayed; And though his earthly voice has fled, His stories stay, they will not fade.
