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I feel a world of comfort when I contemplate these words,
As if “it” all is real and “now” is just pretend.
What is happiness but sadness inside out?
We sit here and grieve for Life.
While those who’ve “lost” it, grow.

Those in the other room
That we, right here, call death,
Mourn when one who dwells there
Becomes involved in what we call birth.
We rejoice here, and they mourn there.
Then soon, it’s the other way around.

Please, when I cross into that other room,
Let all rejoice for me.
And let it all be familiar,
As the place in my dreams, I see.


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