I had died atop a wall and my grave found me smiling.
I died not from the fall, but in the change of dying.
Form to form, now not the same.
As one who sleeps through winter
No snow on my eyes fallen,
As in death there is no winner.
Through seasons of my body? No,
Through seasons of my soul.
My former self has died, but I
Shall live on or so I’m told.
Or So I’m Told
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