"KORKOR, you will always be on our minds and in our hearts forever . May the winds of heaven blow softly and whisper in your ear how much we love and miss you. You may be gone from sight, but you are never gone from our hearts. Death leaves a headache no one can heal, but love leaves a memory no one can steal. Your life was a blessing and your memory a treasure. "KORKOR, you were loved beyond words and now missed beyond measure. We will forever uphold you in our hearts until we see and hold you again in heaven. REST IN PERFECT PEACE!!!
A beautiful Soul is never forgotten! Heaven needed Hero and God picked you for a reason. Tears in my eyes And my heart full of sorrow I hold on to the memories Of the great times we had. I grieves for what I lost But am grateful for what I had. "Peace Be Thine" Odarkor❤️❤️❤️
No amount of words can give true picture of Korkor. She was FANTASTIC in anything she attempted to do. A great being both inside and outside. This lovely soul has left us in shamble. Death has laid its cold hand on our gem and had silenced her forever. A mighty tree has fallen from our mist. Korkor we love you but the Almighty God loves you the best. Rest In Peace.
When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety. When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence, their senses eroded beyond fear. When great souls die, the air around us becomes light, rare, sterile. We breathe, briefly. Our eyes, briefly, see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken. Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened. Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves. And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.
Some birds are not meant to be caged. They chirp too loudly. The song they sing are too sweet and melodious Their talons too long Their wing span is too large and strong Their plumage is too bright and colorful For long confining mortal existence They come briefly and they leave They leave to soar high and higher To heavenly realms Where immortals freely roam And many more mortals Can see, hear, feel, appreciate Their beauty and ethereal powers Keep soaring, Korkor. We love you more.