Poems- Ageing and Death

Sometimes, I wish my brain was like an inexhaustible database. Wouldn't it be nice if I could remember all the cool stuff I've read in their entirety? Well actually the brain is like that, isn't it? Just that mine was probably not wired properly, so every time I slot in some new component, another gets overwritten. sigh.
Which is why I need to put things down in words. And why I shall post (yet) more poems today.
Do you believe in an afterlife? in whatever form?


Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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.

notes: This poem was left in an envelope for his parents by a British soldier Steven Cummins, killed on active service in Northern Ireland, to be opened in the event of his death. Apparently, it wasn't written by him, and its origins are unknown...


When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

by W.B.Yeats

Another poem-wistful~ I wonder if I would feel lk this when Im old. In fact, I alrdy feel lk this, at least what's described in the 1st stanza. Sometimes I look in the mirror and find that my eyes have changed. They look harder, less vulnerable. Is that a good or bad change?