O Death, I Do Not Feel Thy Sting

No, I do not accept
Your funny notions about death
You see a body not breathing
And you think
You are in the presence of
Oh that terrible thing called death
But, tell me, my friend
Why do you set so much store by a body
When all your life
You have lived in your thoughts
And thoughts are dying every second
Giving rise to new thoughts
New ideas, new emotions
When was it you or anyone else
Was not dying
We are dying every second
As we take fancy to new thoughts
Newer ways of being
Dissatisfied constantly
With the way we find our self
In the present.

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