We work so hard to fly
and no matter what heights we reach
our wings get folded near a candle,
at the end.
For nothing can enter God but Himself,
our souls are some glorious substance of the divine
that no sentry wants to stop.
Live without thought of dying,
for dying is not a truth.
We have swayed on the sky’s limb together,
many years there the same leaves grow.
But then they get that look in their eyes
and bid farewell to what they disdained or cherished.
This life He gave the shell, the daily struggles we know,
sit quiet for a minute, dear, feel the wind,
Let Light touch you.
Live without thought of dying,
for dying is not a
truth.
—St. Catherine of Siena
