Poem

Mary Oliver's poem "When Death Comes"
 
 
When death comes….
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what it's going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as 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 common
as 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 as a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
 
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