When I Cease To Be

People in my part of the world don’t get to have epitaphs on their gravestones. Am I wrong to want one? A few lines inscribed on white marble wouldn’t make much of a difference to where my soul will travel to, but it is a comforting thought.

Wordsworth’s ‘Lucy’ isn’t exactly a new read for me, but last night after reading it again it struck me somewhere deep. And I thought, ‘How nice it would be for someone to read this when I die.’

Would you? Please.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love;

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

– Fair as a star when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

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One thought on “When I Cease To Be

  1. Glen says:

    Please stick around for awhile. The world so needs you in it.

    “A violet by a mossy stone”

    You are so much more.

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