.  LULLABY OF DEATH  _For though our life may be   a thing to share, who is there   in this world to share our death?_  _ - Brodsky_  It's okay.  It's nothing at all.  It does not count.  Nothing has happened.  Everything remains the same.  I am I. You are you  and the old life  is unchanged, untouched.  Whatever we were  we are still.  Call me by the old familiar names.  Speak to me in the easy way  you always used.  IN SEED-TIME LEARN, IN HARVEST TEACH, IN WINTER ENJOY  The old fools -   whatever it was they didn't know,  I don't want to know it either.  We are told to give away  what most we want  when all the evidence  says there is nothing to gain in giving.  Tableware and crockery transformed  light streaming across the afternoon  absolutely taking in every shadow and cry  returning just this  already and always.  