There are those rare couplings of souls that pass together because the joy they find in one another's presence is too great to live without. This love is true for every soul in relationship with the world and this is why most souls turn away from the real reality of the mass extinction ~ the death of the world as we know it.
The know this world is to know God's Love and Joy.
To embrace the world's death is to die with it.
When one accepts the loss of the world before it is gone, one is liberated to a profound joy for ever having experienced the beauty ~ for every flower that still blooms, for every hummingbird that still hovers, and for every taste of life, bitter and sweet.
To meet such joy upon sight of others is to live simple and free ~ to live in service.
Obituaries by Billy Collins
These are no pages for the young,
who are better off in one another's arms,
nor for those who just need to know
about the price of gold
or a hurricane that is ripping up the Keys.
But eventually you may join
the crowd who turn here first to see
who has fallen in the night,
who has left a shape of air walking in their place.
Here is where the final cards are shown,
the age, the cause, the plaque of deeds,
and sometimes an odd scrap of news~
that she collected sugar bowls,
that he played solitaire without any clothes.
And all the survivors huddle at the end
under the roof of a paragraph
as if they sidestepped the flame of death.
What better way to place a thin black frame
around the things of the morning~
the hand-painted cup,
the hemispheres of cut orange,
the slant of sunlight on the table?
And sometimes a most peculiar pair turns up,
strange roommates lying there
side by side upon the page~
Arthur Godfrey next to Man Ray,
Ken Kesey by the side of Dale Evans.
It is not enough to bring to mind an ark of death,
not the couples of the animal kingdom,
but rather pairs of men and women
ascending the gangplank two by two,
surgeon and model,
balloonist and metalworker,
an archaeologist and an authority on pain.
Arm in arm, they get on board
then join the others leaning on the rails,
all saved at last from the awful flood of life~
so many of them every day
there would have to be many arks,
an armada to ferry the dead
over the heavy waters that roll beyond the world,
and many Noahs too,
bearded and fiercely browed, vigilant up there at every prow.
in Nine Horses ~ Poems, 2003, Random House, pgs 33-35