Raptorex
New member
I always loved this, and listened to it read often at the passing of a friend, I also feel it is true. I hope no one is offended.
Dying
I am standing at the seashore.
A ship spreads her sail to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty, and I stand watching her until at last she fades on the horizon. Someone at my side says, “She is gone”.
Gone? Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all – The loss of sight is in me, not in her.
And just then, at the moment when someone says “She is gone”
There are others who are watching her coming. Other voices take up the glad shout, “There she comes!”
And that, my friend, is dying.
(An adaptation of a poem written by George W. Meek)
Dying
I am standing at the seashore.
A ship spreads her sail to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty, and I stand watching her until at last she fades on the horizon. Someone at my side says, “She is gone”.
Gone? Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all – The loss of sight is in me, not in her.
And just then, at the moment when someone says “She is gone”
There are others who are watching her coming. Other voices take up the glad shout, “There she comes!”
And that, my friend, is dying.
(An adaptation of a poem written by George W. Meek)