This is just poetry. It won't save you, but it may locate you so that a rescue party can be sent out. — Dean Blehert

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Consolation: Birth is Not the End

When my time comes to live,
give me a simple burial in plain flesh,
don't make a big fuss--give me a name,
milk, trinkets to toy with. Don't
grieve long for me. I am not lost.
I go but to another kind of death.

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