Death sets a thing to its significance
That was insufficient in life
The eye that hurried through
Goals, perished for its workmanship
We all work in crayon, and wool –
Industrious by passing necessity
As other creatures who have eyes
I see no other way, this world
Profits from the business of death
The distance of youth floods
Departs like the Grace departs
For each beloved hour, each beloved year
Death sets a thing to its significance
There are no tears that measure for the dead
Incognito, dust, how intricate the weeping dust!
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/autumn-rain-404842271
Wuji Seshat 