One day the light goes out, one day flowers will loose their petals. There is a rhythm to all that lives. There is birth, there is dead. Everything is here only temporarily. While we are here we have to make the best of it and make sure to smell the flowers.
We have been helping a client at work collecting songs and poetry for the day people will say goodbye to her. I showed her the one I would very much like to be read which I posted. I would also love music of Andrea Bocelli. Here in NZ I experienced that people had celebrations of life to celebrate the good times they had. I would love that with flowers and laughter and music.
We have been helping a client at work collecting songs and poetry for the day people will say goodbye to her. I showed her the one I would very much like to be read which I posted. I would also love music of Andrea Bocelli. Here in NZ I experienced that people had celebrations of life to celebrate the good times they had. I would love that with flowers and laughter and music.
Our client is not ready to go yet. Me neither.
It is a part of life though what is going to happen. I hope not for long as I still have so many tasks to fulfil in this life and so many things I would like to do. But we don't get to choose that day so I rather like the idea of people listening to your favourite song or poem and be a little prepared what about you?
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.


