This is the Dedication to my collection:
Dedicated to my parents—who are my best friends—and to the memory of
my elder brother, Robert R. Bacon, Jr., who, despite his tender age, displayed
an uncommon intelligence and the potential for greatness before his
untimely and tragic demise.
He was a cherubic child...
when Lucifer closed the lid;
and God opened Heaven’s door.
...and also to the memory of my younger brother, Sgt. 1st Class, Henry
“Butch” Bacon, who was killed in the line of duty during Operation Iraqi
Freedom. If the true measure of a man is determined by the number of
people who attend his funeral then Butch is head and shoulders above the
throng. Surely his name is written in the Book of Life.
If the message on this page
—a relic ravished by time—
is found by a distant age
(an age without war and crime),
then these words on musty leaf
will reveal a prophet’s grief
and echo a poet’s rage
at a past world’s heedless plight:
‘To its end with all its might!’
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