Coda

Death comes as the end

I read it once in an Agatha Christie mystery

All our stories end in death

Death is the last thing, the signature on the painting, the cadenza that finishes the sonata

The end of all things, the loss of all light, the bow to finish the dance

Flying freely

Gliding over the housetops, over the oceans

And rivers

And lakes

Sliding gently to a stop

The end

The end...

The end?

A beginning

The beginning of a new painting

A new dance

A new song

The world is gone, the surprises are gone

The joy remains

Still singing