I am standing upon the seashore, a ship at my
side spreads her white sails
to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of
beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until
at length she hangs like
a speck of white cloud where the sea and sky come
down to mingle with
each other. Then someone at my side says, "There,
she's gone."
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side,
and just as able to bear her load of living weight to the place of destination.
Her diminished size
is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when
someone at my side said,
"There she's gone," there are other eyes watching
her coming, and other voices to take the glad shout, "There, she's coming!"
And such is dying.
--- Story Teller's Scrapbook
