""And behold, a chariot of fire and horses of fire, and it went up in a whirlwind through the heavens""
(2 Kings, Chapter 2, 11).
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Few people
And a faint sound of silence will be heard.
And every eye is forever closed.
And the spirit rose
To the throne of glory
Under the wings of the tabernacle
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And the body,
He remained silent, cold and still.
Often buried,
wrap
And then he will go and strike,
Until they disappear
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I am just a little bit older,
Bodhisattvas Bodhisattvas
They will ascend with their bodies to the highest heavens.
Holy and unique
Those who win will be crowned with eternal grace.
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There is no grave, not even a monument.
And also on the horizon is a lack of hope.
And not the eulogies
And no flowers
Even thousands of brothers will not be able to
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Don't cry, mother of heroism.
Because in a chariot of fire, a warning
Your son's ascent in a storm
And the whole sky is a great place for you.
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And all that you lift up your eyes to heaven
Look, he is whole.
And preserved and wrapped in warmth
The boy will answer you with a smile and a look.
How good it is for him now.
Only a mother knows.
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In memory of the soldier Oron Shaul the 14th.
