where beams of sun crisscross the darkness,
and towering trees for eternity have stood.
The untraveled road, yet familiar, harkens.
A stream winds through, and leads to a waterfall,
behind which is a passageway,
and following it you hear,
voices cherished,
and emerging in the clear,
you know that you have perished,
for before you they all gather,
in the place that was once and forever shall be yours,
for you are but of them, as they are of you,
and though we are sent out for a time to roam,
to them we always return,
for they, and it, are home.
Written for me by Kevin Lenihan
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