On my first day of dying I met the sun.
A funny fellow he played tricks on everyone but it was all in good fun.
All in good fun.

On my second day of dying I met the moon. She, like me, was quite morose. Full of darkness her gloom seemed to mirror my doom.
Mirror my doom.

On my third day of dying I met the earth. A babbling brook and mountainous mirth. She spoke of living and of the renewal of spring, her birth. She kept me warm in her hearth.
Warm in her hearth.

On my last day of dying I met you. A beautiful soul, bright and true. I heard you laugh and sing to the deep blue. Ice for eyes and fire for heart you carried me through.
Carried me through.

On my first day of living I met myself. I never would have made it without your help. Now my misery lives quiet on the shelf. Our children play like fireflies in Springtime's golden wealth.
Springtime's golden wealth.