Final Departure

These are the premonitions that accompany me by day; These are whispers that make clear what they have to say; I hear a voice you cannot hear, . . . that says I must not stay. I listen to music that draws me nigh, . . . that has me utter a melancholy sigh. I hear my own footsteps on cobblestones, . . . that echo in the night in diminishing tones. I see an outstretched hand you cannot see, . . . that beckons from the distance in front of me. I now gaze upon a profound mystery, . . . that in this world you will never see. I now reflect upon the infinite world to come, . . . that you cannot consider as a finite sum. I taste a draft you cannot taste, . . . that I must now drink in haste. I will soon taste the drops of golden nectar, . . . that are not reserved in the earthly sector. I will soon smell the perfume of celestial blooms, . . . that have never entered your earthly rooms . I will soon get a whiff of an otherworldly breeze, . . . that will fill me with joy as I fall on my knees. I will soon give up the earthly pleasure of touch, . . . that I treasured here on earth and loved so much. I will soon be touched by the mystery of another kind, . . . that will lift me far beyond any reckoning of mind. These are the premonitions that accompany me by day; These are the whispers that in old age find their own way.