T he gift of life is never more or less.
E ither days or years are merely moments.
R everence remains the source of bliss.
M ore memories do not increase remembrance.
I f death must early come, then let it be
N or more nor less than if it had come late:
A part of a much larger mystery,
L eaving wind and wisdom in its wake.
L onging is the music of our sphere,
Y earning for a time past time and space
I n which all that we love is ever here,
L ove everlasting, which is now our grace,
L iving with us more than we can bear.
