When death comeslike the hungry bear in autumn;when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;when death comeslike the measle-pox
when death comeslike an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everythingas a brotherhood and a sisterhood,and I look upon time as no more than an idea,and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as commonas a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and somethingprecious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say all my lifeI was a bride married to amazement.I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonderif I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
When death comeslike the hungry bear in autumn;when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;when death comeslike the measle-pox
when death comeslike an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everythingas a brotherhood and a sisterhood,and I look upon time as no more than an idea,and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as commonas a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and somethingprecious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say all my lifeI was a bride married to amazement.I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonderif I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.