Death is before me today.
Like the recovery of a sick man,
like going forth into a garden after sickness.
Death is before me today.
Like the odor of myrrh,
like sitting under a sale in good wind.
Death is before me today.
Like the course of a stream,
like the return of a man form the war-galley to his house.
Death is before me today.
Like the home that a man longs to see,
after years spend as a captive.
(Forgotten poet who understood the gifts of Death)
from: The Sandman - The Sound of her wings
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