The sun paints shapes of silver
On the water,
As it rushes over the pebbles,
Singing a melody,
Never heard before or since.
It is the end of life,
in its present form.
He goes now to a place
With neither past nor future,
He will feel exultant,
Vital and valiant.
You shall know this,
Because whenever you think of him,
He will be that way.
There will come a day
When you too will join him,
In that timeless state,
Where no wars are fought,
Where sunrise marks not a beginning,
Nor sunset an end.
Upon the sound of the gentle bell,
You shall go quietly,
To leave us to wonder,
Until we take our turn,
To roll out the blanket
To sit with you among “sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers”,
While listening to the words,
Full of meaning,
That no-one understands,
No-one hears,
Until the bell chimes.