....And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.
Oliver Wendell Holmes' - The Last Leaf
As we are born, we are at death's door. "What day? What time?" we sing.Laugh and cry, laugh and cry endlessly 'till the end; and 'till the end we cling.
We cling. To what do we cling? To death we cling, for life passes by, such a busy thing.
We cling to that certain thing. That dependable end. Ashes that are immune to life's sting.