Life and Death

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprout shows there really is no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward....and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and lucker.

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new-washed babe....and am not contained between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and every one good,
The earth good, and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself;
They do not know how immortal, but I know.

—Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1st ed.

It's rather nice when a bookstore decides to move and puts much of it stock at half-price... I've thought about acquiring some of Walt Whitman's work for a while now. I'm not sure what (if any) religious label he had for himself, but much of his work resonates with me. My favorite line in this selections is "The smallest sprout shows there really is no death." I don't claim to know what happens at death, but I am certain it is not the end, at least not in the way most people think.