Let this be my last word , that I trust in thy love .
I feel thy gaze upon my heart this moment
like the sunny silence of the morning upon
the lonely field whose harvest is over .
That love can ever lose is a fact that we cannot
accept as truth .
I dream of a star , an island of light , where I
shall be born and in the depth of its quickening
leisure my life will ripen its works like the rice-
field in the autumn sun .
Thou wilt find , Eternal Traveller , marks of
thy foot steps across my songs .
The silent night has the beauty of the mother
and the clamorous day of the child .
Clouds come floating into my life from other
days no longer to shed rain or usher storm
but to give colour to my sunset sky .
When I stand before thee at the day's end
thou shalt see my scars and know that I had
my wounds and also my healing .
Love is life in its fulness like the cup with its wine .
Let the dead have the immorality of fame ,
but the living the immortality of live .