Homecoming
We all live for the future, but sometimes death puts a stop to it. Perhaps and sometimes it is no different to someone walking along a flower bed but one single flower among that shiny crowd of he deems extraordinarily fascinating and beautiful. He cuts it off the stem and takes it home.
There, he fills a glass, puts this flower in it, flower and glass goes on the kitchen window. There is more than a good chance that flower survives her natural life span. Or he puts it to dry between the pages of an old nature book, which is handed over from generation to generation ...
Maybe there's an analogy for man and woman, this homecoming in spite of being stripped from its roots of life, and we call that special reserved place beyond the horizon,
Eternity.
Thus, whom to mourn if true, the living or the deceased?
There, he fills a glass, puts this flower in it, flower and glass goes on the kitchen window. There is more than a good chance that flower survives her natural life span. Or he puts it to dry between the pages of an old nature book, which is handed over from generation to generation ...
Maybe there's an analogy for man and woman, this homecoming in spite of being stripped from its roots of life, and we call that special reserved place beyond the horizon,
Eternity.
Thus, whom to mourn if true, the living or the deceased?
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