Good morning loving brother
Went to bed last night
With my chest so tight
Death was the fear
When I was here
The morrow was doubtful
And the eyes were tearful
Little did I realise
That Rumi would make me rise
When I read his poem
On”When one dies”
Death was only a promotion
That endorsed that I was still in motion
Death was not the end of my emotion
But the beginning of another function
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