I will be at one with the Universe
When I return
From whence I came.
No longer a solitary struggling soul
Wrestling with concepts
My mind cannot comprehend.
I will be part of the rushing wind
Or melt in the clouds that float gently by:
Oh! I may be in the song of the lark,
That sings perchance on a summer’s day,
Or I may rest in my garden then
Where violets hide in their woodland glen.
No tears for me – for I’ll be one
With the gentle rain and the setting sun.
