Friday, 26 June 2009

So what is dying...

Farrah Fawcett put up a great fight - sadly she lost, and Michael Jackson will be Twittering and Googling for a few days yet.

Yesterday, I was early for a meeting in Tunbridge Wells, and while waiting for the other two reprobates, with whom I have the pleasure of a 'Company Organisation', I wandered around in the street, and found myself looking in the window of a Funeral Directors.

There was a display of the usual kindness and soothing pictures, but also a small writing, which actually brought the Scrobs' eyes to a moisturising condition - a rare event except during (and after) such lunches where the comestibles become heavier than 13%...

I've Googled the words, and here they are, in abbreviated form...


A ship sails and I stand watching
till she fades on the horizon,
and someone at my side says,
"She is gone."

Gone where?

Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as large as when I saw her.
The diminished size and total loss of sight
is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"She is gone," there are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout...

"Here she comes!"

... and that is dying.


So now you know.

7 comments:

Philipa said...

Thanks for that, Scrobs. That's lovely.

(I've emailed you)

Scrobs... said...

Made me woder Pips!

Emailed you too!

Scrobs... said...

Woder = wonder...

escudillascout@yahoo.com said...

Here is a bit more poetic version from http://articles.christiansunite.com/article5711.shtml:

What is Dying?
By Charles H. Brent
I am standing on the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until at length she is a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says, 'There! She's gone!' Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and she is just as able to bear her load of living weight to her destined harbor.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There! She's gone!' There are other voices ready to take up the glad shout, 'There she comes!'

Scrobs... said...

Thankyou Escuders, that is a nice version.

The one in the window was even longer, and perhaps was 'built on' when it was once used for a special piece of timing at a funeral?

Timing's all important isn't it?

hatfield girl said...

The word verification is sinackle but I'm not saying anything.

Anonymous said...

A nice thought, but based - I fear - on wishful thinking.