The night kissed the fading day With a whisper: "I am death, your mother, From me you will get new birth."
Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day and night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and space, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust. Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your palpitating heart. The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother- dust.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
The birth and death of leaves is part of that greater cycle that moves among the stars.
Death belongs to life as birth does The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down
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