On the day I die, don’t say she’s gone/he’s gone. On the day I die, don’t say she’s gone/he’s gone. Death has nothing to do with going away. The sun sets, and the moon sets, but they are not gone. Death is a coming together. The human seed goes down into the ground like a bucket, and comes up with some unimagined beauty. Your mouth closes here and immediately opens with a shout of joy there. Blessings to all– A wonderful Rumi poem i think Ellen and you Jim would love antoinette