When I pass
I don’t want flowers
or a sermon
or tears.

I want the shade of a tree,
a gentle breeze
and a bird song.

I want to be that bird
and that tree
and perhaps a snail.

I would still want to live
and I will.

It may be dark
for a little while
until there is light again

but it will come
as sure as the next sunrise
the next song
the next rain.

So don’t mourn for me
because I’m not there.

I’m in the trees
in the grass
in the air.

I’m everywhere
but in the box.

I’m already on my way
to something else.

Take this moment instead.
Take a deep breath.
Take a good look around and

don’t cry for angels
that won’t cry for you.