Death

“Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.”

~Dylan Thomas

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

~W.H. Auden

“Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond in the snow,

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry

I am not there. I did not die.”

~Navajo blessing